Between the Shadow and the Soul
by reckless-deception
Summary: [Frankie Anderson/Chloe Price (Crankie Muppet) with background Gail/Holly] - Set post S6, but in a world where Chloe and Dov never got back together - Chloe is like her damn piri-piri marinade; hot, fiery and undeniably addictive. She makes Frankie burn and recoil slightly at her startling heat, and yet every time they interact, Frankie is always left wanting more. [On Hiatus]
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Between the Shadow and the Soul

 **P** **airing:** Frankie Anderson/Chloe Price (Crankie Muppet)

 **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, just borrowing them from Rookie Blue for a little while.

 **Summary:** Chloe is like her damn piri-piri marinade; hot, fiery and undeniably addictive. She makes Frankie burn and recoil slightly at her startling heat, and yet every time they interact, Frankie is always left wanting more.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is set post season 6, but in a world where Chloe and Dov never got back together.

* * *

 _I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

 _or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

 _I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

 _in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

 _I love you as the plant that never blooms_

 _but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_

 _thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_

 _risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

 _I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._

 _I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_

 _so I love you because I know no other way_

 _than this: where I does not exist, nor you,_

 _so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,_

 _so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep._

― _**Pablo Neruda**._

* * *

 **Chapter 1/?**

* * *

Frankie likes her women easy.

Not necessarily in a sexual way – although she's not one to object to casual, consensual sex between strangers – but in the grand schemes of things.

She's not hung up on the image of beauty dictated by the media; that women must be ridiculously skinny, caked in make-up, and dressed to impress at all times in clothes that aren't even all that comfortable. She likes easy women; women who can roll out of bed, twist up their hair and throw on some jeans and a t-shirt and get their day rolling.

Frankie likes women that don't need the cliched tropes of dating. She doesn't like waiting for hours for them to get ready, and she doesn't like bringing flowers and chocolates and giving compliments just for the sake of it.

She likes her women real; raw and true and perfectly imperfect. After all, Frankie knows she's not faultless or flawless, and she doesn't pretend to be.

Neither does Gail Peck. It's why Steve Peck had suggested that they'd get along. It's why Frankie snipes and jeers and banters with her the first opportunity she gets. But it's also why Gail doesn't really take interest in her. Gail Peck isn't looking for perfect, but she's not looking for easy either, and it seems her heart has set itself up for the hard complications of true love.

Holly Stewart is Frankie's polar opposite in every way, she's soft and sassy (but not too harsh) and endlessly patient and warm, and when Frankie witnesses her walk into Gail's life – or rather _back_ into Gail's life – she sees just how easily Gail's tough shell just melts away, her imperfections nourished beautifully in Holly's loving arms, and revealing Gail's true heart for all to see. Together they are romantic and gentle and wanting, balancing out each other's flaws and making each other complete.

They make Frankie reconsider that maybe easy doesn't necessarily mean best. Maybe difficult women are more worth her time, harder to crack but ultimately more precious.

What Gail and Holly don't warn her about is that finding love is neither easy nor complicated, but simply _unexpected_.

Chloe Price is a muppet. She's positive and happy, full of light and laughter and hope. She's kind and quirky, cute and goofy, and sees the good in places and people where nobody else can. She's ditzy but smart, annoying but charming. She's a grown woman with the most innocent and unassuming of hearts, seeing the world bright and beautiful and full of possibilities in ways only children who have never experienced pain or suffering can.

She's a whirlwind of emotions that pulls Frankie in and spins her around in her chaos, always leaving Frankie's head an absolute spinning mess in her wake. Frankie finds her insufferable and frustrating, forever challenging her, forever calling her out and refusing to back down or apologise for who she is.

Chloe is like her damn piri-piri marinade; hot, fiery and undeniably addictive. She makes Frankie burn and recoil slightly at her startling heat, and yet every time they interact, Frankie is always left wanting more.

Frankie has always been two steps ahead of the women she dates, that's why she's always felt superior, why she grows bored with them so quickly, and why they always leave.

Chloe is the player in life that she doesn't anticipate, the one whose moves she doesn't see sweeping past her own until she's placed her final piece and called ' _checkmate_ ' before Frankie has even had time to blink.

That muppet, Chloe Price, as it turns out, is her game changer.

It starts like this:

Another wedding, another couple – Gail and Holly this time – another day of feeling bitter and jaded and lonely.

"Don't you just love weddings?" Chloe states more than asks, plopping herself down on the couch next to Frankie. "Everybody is so happy and beautiful and just... _together_. I love, love, _love_ it."

Her sudden landing jolts Frankie's body slightly, a little of her beer splashing up the side of her glass and spilling over into her lap.

She shoots Chloe a glare and gets a sheepish smile in return, Chloe's hand reaching over to her lap with a napkin to pat her dry. "You love weddings, Price, what a complete and utter surprise," Frankie drawls wryly, snatching the napkin from Chloe's hand and dabbing at herself instead.

"And what a surprise that you don't," Chloe quips back, not looking bothered by Frankie's snark at all. "Sitting alone, wallowing, and being all self-pitying at a wedding is just pathetic, even for you."

"Yeah well, not all of us believe in fairytales, Doll-face," Frankie retorts snottily. "So why don't you take your obnoxious ideals of happiness elsewhere and leave me be. Go find your prince charming or something."

Her insulting suggestion only makes Chloe smile even brighter, a puff of laughter escaping past her lips. "You really don't know me at all," she says genuinely, no hint of smugness in her voice as she holds Frankie's gaze. "My loves have all been epically messy and painful but at the same time, I still think they were kind of beautiful. Love's supposed to bowl you over and leave you breathless and damaged. Embrace the change, you know?"

Frankie scoffs at her this time, her eyebrow arching disbelievingly. "I'm really supposed to believe that you don't think love is all rainbows and goodness and happily ever afters? Cut me some slack, I've seen you moon over sappy shit hundreds of times this past year... I mean you were even just mooning over those two lovesick fools."

Chloe follows her gaze over to where Gail and Holly are pressed together on the dance-floor, completely lost in each other like they have been all evening, smiling softly and trading kisses like they can't get enough of one another.

"I think love is what love is," Chloe replies with a shrug. "Kinda like that line from that movie with Tom Hanks. You know the one," she says snapping her fingers in front of Frankie's face as if that's going to help her figure it out.

Frankie slaps her hand away, feeling annoyance prickle down her spine. "Tom Hanks has been in dozens of movies, you fruitloop. How the hell I am supposed to know what one you mean."

Chloe sticks her tongue out at her in retaliation and then, a few seconds later, clicking her fingers together again and pointing at Frankie, says in a terrible accent, "' _Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get_ '."

" _Forrest Gump_?" Frankie huffs in exasperation, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "How the hell is love anything like that stupid line from Forrest Gump? That makes literally no sense, _at all_."

"Yes it does," Chloe fires back, shuffling closer to Frankie on the couch as she draws her knees up to press into Frankie's thigh. "'Cos in a box of chocolates you get the ones you like and the ones you don't like, right?" Frankie nods slowly, deciding it's probably best at this point to just let herself go with the crazy. "Well sometimes you have to eat a few of the ones you don't like so much to get to one that you do. Love's like that, you have to date a few people that don't work out before you find the one that does; the one that's your most favourite flavour of all."

Frankie narrows her eyes at her. "You really are a fucking muppet, Price, you know that?"

"Maybe," Chloe grins toothily, pushing to her feet all of a sudden and holding her hand out to Frankie. "But I think you should come dance with me because I really love this song."

Frankie eyes her hand wearily in return. "I don't dance."

"Everybody dances," Chloe retorts merrily. "Good, bad, ugly, it doesn't matter, just stop moping and come have a dance with me, it won't kill you."

"It might," Frankie quips back, not moving, and glowering as Chloe reaches down and grasps her wrist, tugging her up. "Ow, what the hell, Price?"

"Don't be a baby, I'm barely touching you," Chloe replies with a laugh that makes her eyes twinkle daringly. "Come dance with me," she echoes unwaveringly.

"Give me one good reason why I should," Frankie answers, not understanding why she feels herself getting swept away in Chloe's dark, enchanting eyes.

Chloe simply steps into her, much to Frankie's surprise, their bodies suddenly so close that she can breathe in the sweet, floral smell of Chloe's perfume, and see the constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks, and feel the warmth of her breath against her own lips as Chloe leans in to her and whispers, "Because, Frankie, I just might end up being the flavour you didn't expect, the one you didn't know you craved until you tried it."

It shouldn't be so appealing but it is, it _so_ is, and Frankie finds the confident sliver of arrogance in Chloe's proposal unbearably sexy. It's a challenge that she has no intention of backing down from.

She holds her hand out and lets Chloe lead her to the dance floor without another word, and as Chloe takes her hands and places them dangerously low on her hips, her own hands coming up to loop around Frankie's neck and letting her teasing fingers scratch lightly at the nape of Frankie's neck, Frankie feels a fire erupt inside of her chest.

It blazes through her swiftly, awakening a hungry desire that she hasn't felt for a long time, and when Chloe, without warning, kisses her goodnight, slow and deep and full of promise, parting with a stinging nip to her bottom lip, Frankie feels the flames consume her.

It bowls her over completely and leaves her breathless and damaged, forever changed with the hot, fiery and undeniably addictive flavour of Chloe Price lingering on her lips, and begging Frankie to taste it again, and again and again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Between the Shadow and the Soul: Chapter 2/?**

* * *

Frankie tells herself it's just a one-time thing, just another night of hot, hungry, heady fucking that doesn't hold the desire for anything more than simply getting off.

After listening to Chloe prattle on for twelve hours while they're stuck together in a surveillance van, smothering Chloe with a smouldering kiss the second they set foot back in the station, in Frankie's mind, seems like the most effective solution to shut Chloe the hell up and wipe that annoyingly bright smile off her face.

Surprisingly, Chloe lets her be all tongue and teeth and greedy hands. She lets Frankie set the pace and lead and dominate. She doesn't protest when Frankie pins her to the wall, not wasting time easing them into it, but instead practically tearing at Chloe's clothes to get to her body before either of them can over-think it. Chloe doesn't even utter a word of objection when Frankie bites at her neck hard enough to leave a mark as she takes her rough and fast in the empty locker room.

What catches Frankie off guard about their heated encounter most though, more so than her own unplanned attack of lust, is how with a heaving chest and panting breath, Chloe simply grins sexily at her, her hair thoroughly messed up and her eyes glazed over in satisfaction, and husks, "Your place or mine?" like she's just been waiting for Frankie to crack ever since their kiss at Gail and Holly's wedding the previous weekend.

It's supposed to be a spontaneous one-time thing, but when Chloe starts trailing wet, hungry kisses up along her jaw that ends with a suggestive nip to her earlobe, Frankie finds herself brimming with a new wave of wanting, that craving she felt after her first taste of Chloe's lips reignited, and leaving her body aching with the desire for more of this woman.

"Mine," Frankie groans out as her eyes flutter shut, Chloe's hands slipping up her shirt to cover her breasts, and her tongue curling promisingly behind Frankie's ear just enough to drive her wild with anticipation.

Frankie thinks that maybe, just this once, she can handle breaking her own rules, Chloe can be a _one-night_ thing instead of a one-time thing. It's still just fucking for the sake of fucking, it's still easy enough and meaningless; no big deal, or so she tries to tell herself.

After all, Frankie rationalises, how much difference can it really make?

* * *

As it turns out, spending one night with Chloe Price can make a _lot_ of difference.

She's a pocket rocket of energy, all hands and lips and teeth and tongue, greedily sampling every inch of Frankie's flesh that she can get to. While normally in her sexual encounters with women, Frankie's the one maintaining the control, the one with the upper-hand, taking what she wants and giving only when she's ready, with Chloe it's different right from the get-go.

Frankie should have expected it really, given how startlingly confident Chloe is around her, and how quickly this little, annoying fireball has gotten under her skin, somehow knowing exactly how and what will press all of Frankie's buttons in just the right ways, and yet, as Chloe whips the dominance out from under her feet, leaving Frankie sprawled out on her back and at the mercy of Chloe's hypnotising touch, Frankie finds herself left utterly dazed and breathless.

"We're not doing this again," Frankie murmurs raggedly against Chloe's incessant lips, feeling the reins of her control being ripped from her grasp as Chloe's mouth works against her relentlessly, forcing her into an unusually willing submission.

Chloe simply kisses her even deeper in response, her tongue sweeping hotly into Frankie's mouth and making her moan. "Okay," Chloe breathes, looking so utterly unfazed by Frankie's declaration that it makes the embers in her chest spark anew with a burst of irritation.

"I mean it," Frankie growls, her voice low and husky with want, her teeth scraping across the bow of Chloe's top lip before licking forcefully into her mouth, and making Chloe's body shudder helplessly above her as she groans in surprise at the change of pace.

It's a small victory though, and doesn't last nearly long enough for Frankie to gain any real satisfaction from it, as Chloe returns the sharpness of her kiss, sucking fervently at Frankie's bottom lip until Frankie's a trembling mess beneath her and left clasping desperately at Chloe's back as she fights not to let herself get so easily swept away.

"Whatever you say, Frankie," Chloe repeats in a shaky exhale, her eyes dancing with detached amusement like she doesn't believe Frankie for a single second, and leans in to trail her lips and teeth along the smooth edge of Frankie's jawline, settling at the soft triangle of skin behind her ear and nipping suggestively.

Frankie's eyes flutter closed without her permission as Chloe's hot mouth shifts to kiss a pathway down her chest, her eager lips seeking out Frankie's hard, aching nipples and drawing them each in turn into the incredible warmth of her mouth, and forcing Frankie to bite back a whimper when Chloe's teasing teeth scrape and tug at her tender flesh, only to then be soothed sweetly with gentle swipes of her tongue.

She's losing this battle hard and fast, every inch of her body on fire with consuming want for Chloe to keep touching her, to take her so completely, and when Chloe makes this self-satisfied hum as she dips her tongue into the wet heat between Frankie's thighs and tastes her for the first time, it makes Frankie almost want to call the whole thing off, to wipe the smugness from Chloe's face and be the one to leave Chloe breathless and begging for more. Except Frankie knows it's far too late for that now, her resistance would be utterly futile, because her body is already arching up from the bed as undeniable pleasure ripples down her spine, and Chloe's hands are curling beneath Frankie's thighs and keeping her close as she continues to work her wondrous mouth expertly against her.

Any last protests Frankie has about this whole thing die on the tip of her tongue as a low, guttural moan rips free from her mouth instead, her whole world suddenly registering nothing but the deft fingers sliding deeply inside her and the tongue licking over her just right to leave fireworks exploding behind her eyelids.

* * *

"God, you're still here then," Frankie mumbles the following morning, rubbing tiredly at her eyes as she emerges from the bedroom to find Chloe drinking coffee in her kitchen and humming along with the radio.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Chloe greet animatedly in return, her smile bright and beaming and far too joyous for Frankie to handle at this early hour.

Frankie scowls as Chloe comes towards her and passes her a glass of orange juice. "Yeah, no, I only do caffeine first thing," Frankie replies, shaking her head in disgust and passing the glass back, "and what the hell is that smell?"

Chloe just rolls her eyes at her and ushers Frankie onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, taking the orange juice away and exchanging it for a steaming cup of black coffee. "I'm making breakfast," Chloe tells her, turning back to the stove and flipping an egg with a spatula.

Frankie sips deeply at her coffee, letting the heat burn down her throat and wake her up properly. "I'm not hungry," she says somewhat snottily, watching with fascination as Chloe's gracious body – clad only in her panties and one of Frankie's dark red button-down shirts – moves easily about in her space like this isn't just the first time she's been there, "and besides, princess, who said you could just make yourself at home and help yourself to my groceries?"

Chloe huffs out a laugh at that and turns to face her. " _Your_ groceries? Frankie you had two bottles of beer and a mouldy piece of cheese in your fridge, like _hello_ , that combo does not a happy tummy maketh," Chloe informs her with a grin, turning back to plate up their food. "I went out and got this stuff this first thing when I woke up."

"Why?" Frankie fires back, not understanding why somebody would wake up after a one-stand with the opportunity to run and not take it, deciding instead to come back and face their conquest in the refreshing, morning light of reality.

Chloe's eyebrows knit together in confusion at her question. "What do you mean why?" she asks, bringing the plates over and settling one down in front of Frankie before hopping up onto the stool opposite her. "Everybody needs a good breakfast to start their day off right, it's like a law of mankind or something," Chloe says simply, shrugging her shoulders and taking a bite of her food like that answers that.

Frankie blinks back at her for a moment longer, baffled into silence by the strangeness that is Chloe Price, and then slowly glances down at her own plate, the smiley face made up from pancakes, eggs and bacon making her scoff, "Jesus, Price, you really are one of a kind, aren't you?"

"Thanks," Chloe grins, easily taking Frankie's insult and twisting it into a compliment, and then waggling her eyebrows and pointing her knife at Frankie's own plate says, "You should really eat up before it gets cold. I need you awake enough to give me a ride to work, my car's still at the station, remember? Plus, I really don't want you running on fumes all day due to monumental energy we used up last night, because then you'll get all cranky and blame me when your stamina starts running real low later, and we can't have that, can we?"

It's the wink that Chloe tacks onto the end of her statement that really works its way under Frankie's skin, that confident, self-satisfied smirk curling at Chloe's lips and making her eyes glimmer mischievously, that lets Frankie know, that despite what she said last night, this won't be the last time Chloe Price ends up in her bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Between the Shadow and the Soul: Chapter 3/?**

* * *

It becomes a bit of a game after that first night, a daring competition of who can make who come the quickest, the hardest, the most often.

Frankie tells herself that that's all it is – this _whatever_ that's happening between them – just meaningless fucking with the chance to garner bragging rights, because let's face it, there's no way Frankie's letting that cute, bubbly, cheerful muppet, Chloe Price, think that she's the better one in bed out of the two of them. No way, no how.

She's the lady killer here, she's the experienced one; the one with the impressive revolving door of one-night stands filled with beautiful women, and she's going to make sure Chloe knows it.

Sure, Chloe's got some skills, she knows how to move her body in all the right ways to keep Frankie interested enough, and she's definitely picked up quickly on how to make Frankie's pulse race and how to get her body hot, wet and wanting. But Frankie refuses to allow Chloe to be so pleased with herself again for making Frankie break apart so easily like she had that first time.

She does a damn good job of being detached from Chloe's affects on her for the first couple of weeks that they're sleeping together, always being the instigator, always having her way with Chloe first and leaving her quaking and gasping for breath, her body too weak, sated, and sleepy to reciprocate to her full ability.

It makes Frankie feel smug and powerful, assured in her skills, and reassured that the consuming desire she was feeling for Chloe at Gail and Holly's wedding was born more out of loneliness than any real sparks.

That is, at least, until late one Friday night, both of them keyed up from the laughter and alcohol they've been sharing with Gail and Holly and the rest of the gang after successfully finishing up the world's most annoying case, when Chloe ambushes her in the ladies restroom at The Penny.

She pushes Frankie back into the cubicle she emerges from the second she steps out to leave after relieving herself, Chloe's lips instantly attacking her own greedily, their mouths slanting together over and over again as Chloe's eager hands wander desperately over every inch of her body.

The onslaught of Chloe's tongue in her mouth, curling against her own, and her cool fingertips sneaking under her shirt to trail over the warmth of her skin makes Frankie shudder uncontrollably, her head growing increasingly hazy – in ways that she knows has _nothing_ to do with the vodka she's consumed – as Chloe's teeth graze down along her neck, nipping over her collarbones as her fingers work the button and zipper of Frankie's jeans and drag them hurriedly down her legs.

Before Frankie can even comprehend what is really happening, Chloe is dropping down onto her knees before her and bunching her shirt up with one hand as she presses, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down along Frankie's bare, trembling stomach, and urging one of Frankie's legs up and over her shoulder with her other as she licks a frenzied pathway down, down, down, until she's burying her face in Frankie's slick, heated arousal.

" _Fuckkk,_ " Frankie gasps out, her body jolting forward and bowing further into Chloe's mouth as she hungrily sucks Frankie's sensitive bundle of nerves into her mouth, Chloe's fingers biting into her thigh as they attempt to hold her steady.

White, hot heat builds rapidly at the base of her spine as Chloe builds her up with the tortuous combination of sucking at her with the deep, encompassing pressure of her lips, and gentle, languid strokes of her tongue all the way down her slit, circling teasingly around her entrance before repeating the process all over again.

Frankie feels herself losing it completely when Chloe presses her fingers inside her, thrusting deep and slow as she settles her tongue to circle lightly at Frankie's throbbing clit. It's all she can do then to close her eyes and tip her head back against the wall, one hand reaching up to play with her own breasts while the other threads through Chloe's hair and holds her impossibly closer as her body coils tensely, and then swiftly unfurls in the endless, powerful waves of her release.

She's still gasping for breath, her lungs needing oxygen more rapidly than she can draw it in and making her body shake erratically, when Chloe places a final, sweet kiss to her clit and withdraws her fingers as she pulls back to meet Frankie's stunned, heavy-lidded eyes.

The moment Frankie knows she's in deep trouble, that she shouldn't have underestimated Chloe Price and her capabilities, is when Chloe lifts her fingers, still glistening wetly with Frankie's arousal, up to her mouth, slowly licking the digits clean by making a show of curling her tongue around them as she intently holds Frankie's gaze, and letting her teeth graze hotly over her flesh, suggestively sliding her fingertips back from between her lips with an insufferable smirk.

It reignites Frankie's craving for more of her at once, and this time Frankie knows it will be a difficult task to convince herself that it's just easy, meaningless fucking like she engages in with other women.

No, this is fucking with Chloe Price, and Frankie craves it more than anything she's ever wanted before.

* * *

In the days that follow, it feels like Chloe knows just how much Frankie burns for her.

It's in the way she's started to slowly tease her more and more confidently at work, surrounded by the prying eyes of others. Chloe never lets them see of course, knowing how quickly that would ruin their game, but with each daring touch that she manages to get away with, the harder and harder she continues to push at Frankie's boundaries.

Frankie glares at her, clenching her jaw tightly for the umpteenth time that week as Chloe's hand sneaks across to settle on her thigh beneath the table as Oliver briefs them all for their shifts, but refuses to let her body respond, forcing herself to stay rigid and upright and composed.

It's almost as though Chloe knows it's a test though, because instead of heeding Frankie's silent demand to back off like she has done in the days past, this time she simply scratches her fingernails along the seam of Frankie's slacks, following all the way down to her knee before travelling up again, repeating the process over and over again and each time creeping ever so slightly higher.

When she gets too close to the junction of her thighs, Frankie reaches down to clasp her fingers tightly around Chloe's hand, putting an immediate stop to her actions, but makes sure to brush her thumb teasingly across the inside of Chloe's wrist, just once, in a bold caress that says ' _later_ ', before letting go again.

In response, Chloe bites at her bottom lip and stares back at her, her eyes darkening with lust as she lets her gaze roam over Frankie's body quickly but appreciatively.

The moment Oliver dismisses them all, Chloe jumps up from her seat and grasps onto Nick's arm, instantly rambling away about something completely unrelated to what's just transpired between them, and leaves for the start of her tour without daring to look back at Frankie and the heated promise looming in her eyes.

When they fuck later that night, it's rough and urgent, the desire to get each other off almost animalistic in need, Chloe's leg curled up at Frankie's side as Frankie works her fingers into her in a blazed frenzy, bringing Chloe to a quaking orgasm within mere minutes.

Something about the way Chloe's panting, rickety moans echo out into the stillness of the room, and the way her fingernails rake down Frankie's back, a mixture of pain and pleasure, as she grasps at the firm muscles of Frankie's ass and keeps their sweat-coated bodies pressed tightly together, fills Frankie with the need to take even more, to see how far she can push Chloe before she shatters completely apart.

With her lips pressed to Chloe's damp neck, Frankie starts thrusting slowly inside her again before Chloe's even had time to ride out the full extent of the aftershocks of her first release, and feels as Chloe's body twitches and gasps at the overwhelming sensation building rapidly inside her again so soon.

When Frankie feels Chloe beginning to clench around her fingers for a second time that night it's with Chloe clutching onto her tightly, her eyes fluttering open and brimming with unbridled trust as she stares up at Frankie, mouth slightly agape in a continuous set of breathy moans, and allows Frankie to bring her to another level of pleasure.

It's the kiss that Chloe draws her into afterwards, her body still shuddering beneath Frankie's own as her fingertips ghost up along Frankie's jaw and pull her down to meet her lips in a kiss that's so slow and so deep, that it leaves Frankie aching all the way down to her toes, not just with want, but with something else entirely... something that makes her heart pinch and her chest feel tight in ways that Frankie doesn't quite understand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Between the Shadow and the Soul: Chapter 4/?**

* * *

She's pulled from the depth of her slumber by the irritating beeping of her alarm-clock piercing the air. With a groan slipping past her lips and her eyes still closed, Frankie slips her hand out from the sheets and slaps at her nightstand until she successfully manages to turn the damn thing off.

Hunkering back down into the warmth of her bed, Frankie feels herself almost drifting back off to sleep when the light flutter of a touch against her hip registers in her mind. With her eyes flickering open in surprise, a rush of memories of the previous evening filling her mind, Frankie knows at once who the hand that's pressed against her naked flesh belongs to.

Turning her head to glance over her shoulder Frankie's gaze instantly falls upon Chloe's own, her eyes a little wide with shock and her mouth pressing together in a sheepish grimace as she quickly withdraws her hand from Frankie's body.

"Sorry," Chloe mumbles at once, her cheeks flushing a bright crimson.

In the weeks that they've been fucking, not once have they curled together afterwards. Chloe normally slips back into her clothes and leaves, or if she's utterly exhausted, she'll roll away from Frankie, and Frankie from her, and they'll sleep with their backs to one another.

There's no room for cuddling in whatever it is they're doing.

Cuddling is intimate and needy, and for lovesick fools like Gail and Holly who probably spend hours trailing their fingertips across each other's skin just for the sake of touching while they talk endlessly about the depth of their boring feelings.

Cuddling is most certainly not for Frankie, and most certainly has no place in what she and Chloe are to one another. Their fucking is more like a business agreement, a casual desire to get each other off as often as they can. It most certainly isn't about holding hands and going on dates and making each other _feel_ anything.

(Other than sexually satisfied of course).

Only, as Chloe recoils back from her, almost as if waking to find herself touching Frankie in such an intimate way has burnt her, and quickly rushing from the bed and shrugging back into her clothes while avoiding Frankie's gaze, all Frankie can do is feel an odd, unexpected emptiness suddenly left in Chloe's wake.

Her skin tingles longingly where the unusual warm, comforting weight of Chloe's hand had been pressed against her only moments before, almost as if Chloe's touch has become imprinted into her flesh overnight, and leaves Frankie confused and questioning why it feels like Chloe's hand had seemed to fit against her just right, almost as if it actually belonged there.

As fleeting as the thought may be, Frankie can't help but feel unsettled by it.

* * *

They don't talk about what happened that morning in the days that follow, and they definitely don't start dating, or doing other romantic, couple-y type things. In fact, Frankie tries to distance herself slightly from their routine of foreplay banter and fucking, knowing fully well that she needs to clear her head of these ridiculous thoughts if they're to keep being able to enjoy each other with no strings attached, and so she purposely picks up a few night shifts when she knows Chloe's working days, forcing them to have some time apart.

She tells herself that having some space is a good thing actually, a necessary thing, to stop either of them growing too attached and clingy. What they're doing together, after all, is not the starting stages of some blossoming relationship. They don't need to be attached at the hip every waking moment if all they're doing is engaging in casual sex.

It's why, when Frankie finishes her week of night shifts, that instead of immediately going in search of Chloe, and pushing her up against the nearest wall or dragging her into the nearest bed, to relieve the ever present horny itch she's developed in her days without letting her body come, that she forces herself to accept Gail's offer of going for a few rounds of drinks at The Penny.

"Are you sure the old ball and chain won't mind you staying out this late?" Frankie questions with a teasing smirk as Gail offers to get them another round in.

"My stunning, sexy, eternally youthful _wife_ , is actually working late tonight," Gail returns with a bit of a bite, her teeth flashing a little in Frankie's direction almost like a warning snarl.

While they'd shared a few nights together of easy, mindless sex, Gail had made it known right from the start that her heart belonged to another woman. Frankie hadn't minded at all, Gail was smoking hot and up for some good sex without the added complications and stress of weighing up whether she was girlfriend potential or not.

While they hadn't turned out to be as romantically compatible as Steve Peck had deemed them to be, far too similar and yet far too different to actually have any real potential as a couple, they had managed to form a rather strange friendship out of their wacky connection, the foundation of which is based on snark and wit, and never ending banter.

However, while taking snipes and easy shots at each other is fine, and often welcomed, Frankie has become quickly aware that Gail is like a protective lion when it comes to Holly; her lioness is off limits and not to be messed with or jeered at in any way, for fear of being mauled to death if she dares to cross that line.

Frankie can't help but tease just a little though, always taking a rather twisted pleasure in watching Gail's hackles rise. "Ah, so you're allowed to stay out and play for a little longer then, how very cute, Peck," she jests, watching smugly as Gail's eyes narrow threateningly. "I promise I won't get you into too much trouble with the Mrs, I know you have to be home and asleep in your matching hers and hers pyjamas before eleven."

"Careful Anderson, or I might just think your pathetic snide remarks at my relationship indicate that you're still interested in me," Gail quips back with an insufferable wink that makes Frankie stick her fingers in her mouth and mock gag.

When Gail returns moments later with new bottles of beers and a round of shots of her beloved tequila for them, they quickly and easily settle back into their bantering exchange, Frankie steering clear of making any more joking comments at nerdy Holly's expense – for now at least – and instead steers the conversation around so that they're trading jibes with each other about who is the better detective.

"Accept it, Franks, I'm your equal now," Gail jests as she downs one of her shots and licks at her lips. "No more sticking me and my rookie with all your grunt work, you'll have to find somebody else to pick on, although I know that will break your poor robotic heart not to see my fine self as often as you'd like."

"Oh, please, you're still such a baby detective, Peck," Frankie flouts, rolling her eyes. "I mean you're a _vice_ detective, that's basically the bottom of the detective food-chain. You trade for information with informants just like the dealers you're trying to bust trade their drugs with desperate meth-heads. They'll all give you a little nugget of nothing to catch a break, you barely have to do any real policing work."

"Working the streets _is_ real policing work, Anderson, but how could I possibly expect you to know that when you're spending all day around smelly, decomposing corpses, huh?" Gail fires back in irritation, glaring at Frankie in a way that just makes Frankie grin toothily.

She downs one of her shots and sets her glass down nosily, running her tongue across her teeth with a grimace, utterly unable to resist the easy set up Gail has laid before her, and teases, "But at least I get to spend my policing hours in the lab, watching the sexy pathologist work; those strong hands, that sleek body, and the view of her cleavage when she leans for-"

Gail kicks her shin hard, making Frankie yelp and glower. "Whoops, my foot slipped, my bad," Gail smiles sweetly, despite the bite in her tone that lets Frankie know she's not sorry at all, not even remotely.

"You really have gotten more uptight since you got married, you know that," Frankie snarls, rubbing at her leg. "Any one would think you're _not_ getting laid on the regular with the way you walk around with a face like a slapped ass."

"And maybe you _need_ to get laid, Frankie, so you stop being such an insufferable jackass," Gail retorts, and then with a smile adds, "if that's even possible."

Just as Frankie opens her mouth to counter Gail's wildly off-base allegations, she catches sight of Chloe entering the bar with the new cadet that's just started at fifteen-division. It's the first time she's properly seen her for the past seven days, and something about seeing Chloe laughing and smiling and touching somebody else makes Frankie's heart stutter in her chest, and not in a pleasant way.

The guy, whatever his name is – Kelley something unimportant – Frankie doesn't really remember the rest, she was too busy hiding a snort behind her hand at the ridiculously squeaky, high-pitched voice that came out of his beef-cake of a body as he said hello to them all – leads Chloe over to the bar with his big, giant mitt of a hand pressed low on Chloe's back.

When Chloe finally spots them sitting over in the corner a second later, she calls out a ludicrously chirpy " _d_ _etectives in the hooouse!_ " while pointing at them and throwing her hand up to wave in their direction, before letting herself be distracted once more by Kelley as he ushers her over towards the pool table.

Frankie loathes how his rough hands are grabbing at Chloe's hips and pulling her close to lean back against his large chest as he manoeuvres Chloe's hands along the pool cue, guiding her in her actions as he helps her to cleanly pot one of the balls.

It feels like fire has suddenly erupted throughout Frankie's body and she's sweltering underneath the pressure of it as she watches them. It starts in her chest and bursts out with rage, spreading over every inch of her skin and marking her painfully with envy. The unfamiliar feeling makes her lungs constrict with an anger that bubbles vehemently with every breath she draws, and Frankie fleetingly mulls over the notion that this might be what people in trashy romance novels and movies deem as jealousy.

She dismisses the absurdity of the idea just as quickly as it comes to her, and instead blames her wayward thoughts on the alcohol clouding her brain. It has to be the result of the shots she's downed quickly and that are now rushing through her bloodstream and making her light-headed, because Frankie doesn't _pine_ , not after anybody, and especially not after someone as ridiculous and sunshine-y as Chloe Price.

When Chloe smiles brightly at her success and turns to throw her arms around his neck in a celebratory hug, it makes Frankie's stomach coil and knot, and despite the growing ache in her chest and the dryness in her throat, Frankie can't look away, not when her palms itch uncontrollably with the desire to touch, to rush over to Chloe and claim her barbarically as her own.

She reaches across and steals Gail's remaining shot, downing it in one swift breath as she watches his hands fall to Chloe's hips again, this time leaning in close to her ear and whispering encouragingly as he prompts Chloe to take the shot without his help, and tells herself that surely what she's feeling can't possibly be something as pathetic as jealousy.

Frankie reasons with herself that it's just a simple case of her depraved body craving to be touched, and Chloe being there, in sight and accessible, is just her mind providing her with an easy answer.

The tequila clenches the unrelenting dryness of her throat but fails to put out the raging fire that's consuming her body, and leaves her heart hammering so harshly beneath her ribs that Frankie fears it may explode from her chest if she doesn't look away.

Allowing herself only a final fleeting second of witnessing Chloe laughing and smiling and melting into his continued touches, Frankie forces herself to look away, her fists balling up involuntarily, so tightly that her nails dig painfully into her palms even as she squares her shoulders and clenches her jaw, and demands herself to get it together and stop being such a fool.

When she turns back around, it's to find Gail's inquisitive ice blue eyes piercing into her, her head tilted slightly to the side as a hint of a smirk curls at the corner of her lips in a look Frankie can't quite decipher the meaning of.

" _What?_ " Frankie snaps out defensively, feeling her spine prickle uncomfortably under Gail's prying gaze, and making her shift awkwardly beneath the weight of it.

She reaches out for her beer and downs several large gulps just so she has something to momentarily distract herself with as Gail continues to regard her with infuriating interest.

Blinking back slowly at Frankie over the top of her own bottle of beer, Gail gives her a small, non-committal shrug and shakes her head.

"Nothing," Gail drawls wryly, the full extent of her smirk materialising on her lips gradually, and making her eyes sparkle in such a disconcerting way that Frankie doesn't believe her at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Between the Shadow and the Soul: Chapter 5/?**

* * *

By the time she sees Chloe the next morning, Frankie has more than convinced herself that the weird, unsettling feeling that emerged in her chest last night had nothing to do with Chloe, but rather everything to do with the combination of her sleep deprivation, her lack of proper food intake, and her brisk intoxication.

If anything, her theory was proved correct in the gorgeous woman she easily picked up at the bar and screwed in the toilets shortly after she saw Chloe and Kelley leave together, her body unwinding the second she came, and leaving her feeling relaxed and calm and clear minded once again as she returned to join Gail – disapproval evident in the surface of her ice blue eyes – for a final round of drinks before calling it a night and going home alone to crash out.

She tells herself that when she startles awake a few hours later from dreams filled with nothing but a faceless woman, her hair blazing brightly in different hues of red, and beckoning an utterly transfixed and unable to resist Frankie towards her, that it's merely a coincidence. It would worry her if she believed in any of that psychological babble, but when the same man who suggests that dreams are an expression of unconscious thoughts is also the same man convinced that children go through a stage of desiring their parents, Frankie has the opinion that all that stuff is utter _bullshit_.

Dreams are just dreams, and the dream she had doesn't bare any real meaning to anything at all; especially any meaning surrounding her relationship – or _whatever_ it is she shares – with a certain, short, kooky, red-haired police officer who she just happens to be fucking occasionally.

"Good morrow to thee, Detective Anderson," Chloe beams as she approaches her from out of nowhere, all bright and cheerful and peppy, and making Frankie's self-inflicted hangover headache throb even more harshly than it already was. "Thought you could use this," she says, settling a bottle of water on the edge of Frankie's desk. "You looked like you were going _pretty_ darn hard last night on the good ol' shots, and you totally look a little green around the gills this morning, so I thought you could probably use some trusty H2O; you gotta stay refresh _ed_ so you can at your be _st_ ," she finishes in a slight, and utterly bizarre rap complete with hand gestures.

Yeah, there's no way her dream was trying to tell her anything significant about her _whatever_ with Chloe Price, because the only thing Frankie grows more and more certain of each time she interacts with Chloe in a non-sexual way, is that she's a fucking fruitloop.

Frankie pinches at the bridge of her nose, letting her eyes fall closed for a couple of seconds as the volume of Chloe's voice ripples through her. "Thanks for the suggestion, but I'm gonna need to stick with caffeine," she replies with a forced smile, holding up her fresh cup of coffee as evidence for her refusal. "Jarvis is on my ass about breaking this case today, so if you don't mind, I've really gotta get cracking..."

"Oh, you need a hand?" Chloe asks excitedly, not sensing Frankie's subtle dismissal, and coming to read the case notes by leaning in over Frankie's shoulder. "I love tricky cases, taking all the clues and piecing them together, it totally reminds me of playing _Clue_ as a child, you know? Who's the killer, what room, what weapon. That game is totally part of the reason why I wanted to become a cop in the first place. I was _a_ _h-m_ _a_ _h-z_ _ing_ at it, always beat my cousin. Although, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not entirely sure it was a fair contest, she's like five years younger than me. Do you think I was kinda cheating?"

Frankie tries to fire back a snarky remark to Chloe's incessant ramble, but the unexpected shiver that ripples through her body at having Chloe stand so close to her that she can feel the warmth of Chloe's body radiating against her own after days of not touching her at all, makes her eyes involuntarily fall shut, and the delicious, sweet scent of Chloe's perfume filling her lungs, distracts her from thinking of anything other than how utterly heavenly she smells.

"Don't you have your own cases to work on?" Frankie questions as she snaps out of her haze, her voice nowhere near as biting as she intends when Chloe's hand accidentally brushes against her own as she reaches for the report, the small, innocent touch sending a shockwave through Frankie's skin that she just isn't prepared for.

"Nope, I'm free to help out," Chloe replies with a shake of her head. "Everyone got assigned to this hockey game today because of all the violence that happened last time these two rival teams played or something," Chloe explains with a shrug, not really looking all that bothered, "and Oliver stuck me with desk duty for being a few minutes late because I stopped on the way to work to get this really amazing kale smoothie that I was craving. So, since it's totally dead here today, I'm all yours."

Those words shouldn't make her breath lodge in the back of her throat, but for some reason they do. She knows Chloe doesn't mean them in the way she suddenly hears them reverberating loudly around her head, but with Chloe's dark, bewitching, hopeful eyes sparkling back at her, Frankie finds her words of protest nowhere to be found. If Chloe wants to be hers for a little while, in whatever sense she means, who is Frankie to deny her?

What harm could it possibly do for them to spend some time together that doesn't include fucking?

While really, Frankie knows she would be more than fine working her case alone, quite content for some time spent in peace and quite, and distant from everyone, and certain that it's actually what she needs to clear away the fuzziness that's creeping back in and lingering around the edge of her thoughts, Frankie can't find it in herself to turn Chloe down.

Especially with the way Chloe is already stalking over towards the board and studying the rest of the evidence with genuine interest, her mind evidently whirring away with ideas; ideas for this case that have long left Frankie stumped for answers.

"Sure, why not, I've got nothing to lose," Frankie shrugs, spinning around in her chair, and knowing full well that her head is throbbing too much for her to even attempt to piece her case together, and that Chloe has her own unique style to approaching these things. "Have at it, Price, maybe I'll get lucky and you'll see something I'm missing."

She feels her mouth twisting into a small smile then, as she watches Chloe cutely worry her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes flick over each piece of information and each photo in turn, her fingertips tracing across them as if touching them will allow her to adsorb more information from them somehow.

Frankie's only startled from her daze when her phone rings out loudly around the room, the noise disturbing Chloe from her trance too as she turns to watch Frankie glance at the name flashing across the screen with disdain for a couple of seconds before abruptly ending the call.

She sees the curiosity settling across Chloe's face, and not wanting to explain, instantly keeps the conversation back on her, hoping to distract her enough that she'll forget to ask the question Frankie can see lingering on the tip of her tongue.

"So, Muppet, you don't seem hungover at all, what's your secret? Did you not actually have fun with what's-his-face last night or something?" Frankie asks, not really understanding why the first thing she can come up with as small talk turns out to be the one thing she really doesn't want to know more about.

"No, no, I had a real fun night, and believe me, I drank _a lot_ ," Chloe grins back at her, and Frankie actually feels thankful for once that Chloe is always so positive that she doesn't pick up on the slight sneer in her voice. "Kelley is such cool guy, we had a blast getting to know each other, and he taught me how to do some swanky pool trick shots. So, if I ever need to hustle someone, I'll totally know how now. But yeah, the secret is to drink lots of water before bed," she replies, gesturing at the bottle on Frankie's desk. "I do it and I rarely get hangovers. You really should try it sometime, I swear it helps."

Just as her chest begins to bubble with a strange combination of something akin to jealousy and something that feels a little like gratitude for being thought of, her ringtone echoes shrilly around the room once more.

Frankie doesn't even bother looking this time before declining the call, she simply lets out a deep, tired sigh and then purses her lips together into a tight smile as she points at the board. "So, your crazy brain notice anything unusual yet?"

Chloe blinks back at her wearily for a couple of seconds. "Are you okay?" she asks tentatively, gesturing at Frankie's phone. "It's just, now you look all tense and furrowed and-"

"I'm fine," Frankie fires back, crossing her arms defensively across her chest, protecting herself from Chloe's kind but unwanted concern. She doesn't talk about her family with anyone, _ever_ ; not with the women she's briefly dated in the past, and most definitely not Chloe. Just because they're sleeping together occasionally doesn't mean they know each other at all – nothing _real_ at least – and Frankie intends to keep it that way. "Did you notice anything or not?" she prompts, gesturing to the board again.

Chloe presses her mouth together into a small, sad smile, seemingly accepting Frankie's refusal to share and steps back over towards the board.

"Well," Chloe drawls, leaning in close to one particular photo. "Your vic is, like, covered from head to toe in tattoos. Not that I'm judging, I really appreciate tattoos as personal expression used to communicate details of identity... you know I almost got a tattoo once, but when I got there and the humming of the needle started, I freaked out and couldn't go through with it. I mean, I went knowing what I wanted to get, but then I realised what if what I wanted on my body _then_ was not what I'd want tattooed on my body in the _future_. Like what if I suddenly _don't_ have a personal connection to dreamcatchers any more? Not that I could ever imagine not liking them because, _duh_ , they catch dreams and represent possibilities, but you know what I'm saying right?"

"Chloe, I _rarely_ know what you're trying to say," Frankie replies slowly, her eyebrows knitting together in utter confusion as she tries to process all that she's just heard. How it's possible for one, tiny creature to speak so much, and without ever seeming to take a breath or pause, Frankie will never know. "Can you just get back to the part about the victim and her tattoos and filter out the parts that surround the fascinating, but entirely unnecessary, tale from your life."

"Right, right, sorry, as I was saying, basically the tattoo-" Chloe starts, stopping only when Frankie's phone pings with a text message. This time however, before Frankie even has time to register what the sound is, Chloe is stalking towards her desk and swooping the phone up and out of her reach. "' _Franc_ _ine_ _, I'd like to see you. Please call me back. Dad_ '," Chloe reads aloud, lifting her gaze to search out Frankie's, her face etched with intrigue. "Your name is _Franc_ _ine?_ I mean obviously I knew it wasn't _just_ Frankie... well, actually, I suppose it could've been, but a lot of the time it's short for something. I just always kinda thought you'd be more of a Francesca than a Francine though."

Frankie pushes up on her feet so that she can reach across her desk and snatch the phone back from Chloe's hands, a scoff escaping past her lips as she throws it back down on her desk without even considering replying, and immediately turning her attention back to her report like it's nothing.

She can feel Chloe's eyes burning into her, and she knows that no matter how much she wants to just drop the whole subject, that Chloe won't be able to resist digging a little deeper, her curious nature forcing her to pry where she sometimes shouldn't.

" _What_? I was named after my grandmother, okay?" Frankie snaps, feeling her hackles rise defensively. "I've always gone by Frankie. Only my asshole father calls me Francine, if you really must know, Price. _Jesus_."

Chloe just blinks back at her patiently, not letting Frankie's angry outburst upset her even remotely, and Frankie knows as she continues to hold Chloe's gaze for a few seconds longer, that the details around her name are not what Chloe is really interested in.

People have always assumed that they know the real her from the little she gives away; seeing her as cold and arrogant and heartless, and accepting her for those surface level details without believing that there's anything more to her. It's part of the reason why she's so reluctant to split herself open and share things about herself on the unreliable whims of curiosity. Especially, why she's unwilling to share her deepest, darkest secrets; the secrets that _really_ make her who she is.

Why would she waste her time offering anything more, when people's assumptions have never left any room or reason for her to expose the true pieces of herself. The way Frankie's come to see it, is that she doesn't owe anybody anything more than what they see. Let them have their false opinions of her, what they think really doesn't matter. Her truths are hers, and hers alone.

"You're really not going to answer him?" Chloe murmurs quietly a moment later, cautiously, almost like she knows she's walking a fine line between safety and danger.

"Nope," Frankie says absently, popping the 'p', and purposely turning her focus back to her report, hoping that Chloe will pick up the cue that this is the end of their conversation.

Of course, nothing with Chloe is ever as easy as it should be, and Frankie sighs deeply, tiredly, as she feels Chloe move closer, her body coming to perch on the edge of her desk and waiting for Frankie to give in and lean back to meet her eyes before saying, "You should message him back. Family is important, Frankie, it's like the essence of who we are, you know? Like we're actually made up from parts of their DNA."

Frankie leans heavily back in her chair and reaches up to massage her temples, feeling the dull ache of her headache flaring up into an unrelenting throb again. "Bits of DNA or not, I'm nothing like that old son of a bitch, Chloe. So, let's drop it, alright."

"Still," Chloe replies quietly, as if the weight of Frankie's words have halted her lightheartedness, her ability to give everything a positive spin stopping as her eyes bore deeply, _empathetically_ , into Frankie's own, as she refuses to heed Frankie's warning to let it go, "we only get one family in our lifetime, so sometimes, even when we don't want to, I think we have to try and make the effort to make it work the best we can. Even if it hurts. Nobody's got the perfect family, Frankie, we just try to make do with what we've got."

Frankie flicks her eyes away, hating how Chloe's looking at her with such open, honest concern, her eyes penetrating through her tough facade and past the walls she's built protectively around her fragile heart, as if, somehow, without Frankie's permission, she can truly see her.

It feels like Chloe's crawled under her skin, and now that she's there, gradually invading the deepest, darkest parts of her soul, Frankie can't get her out, and she can't pretend like she isn't there.

She feels unexpectedly raw and exposed, utterly vulnerable and weak, and it's everything she's been avoiding feeling for so long. She can't stand the way it gnaws tortuously at her insides, and so Frankie swallows thickly, feeling Chloe's words lodging bitterly in the back of her throat, and tries not to give anything more of herself away while she urgently fights to dispel Chloe out from her veins.

"What could you possibly know about it, Price?" Frankie drawls callously, her eyes narrowing in disbelief, turning defensive and cruel seeming like the only option she has left. "From the way you walk about, all smiles and sunshine and endless positivity, it would seem you've had a pretty easy life."

Chloe's expression shifts at her comment, her demeanour changing slightly as she blinks back at Frankie, refusing to be bullied away.

"Maybe I don't really know anything about you, or your family for that matter," Chloe says softly, her shoulders squaring. "But you don't really know me either, Frankie. You might think that just because I choose to see life as glass half full rather than half empty that I've had it easy, but there's nothing easy about being me. I'm all squiggly and weird and all over the place, and I talk fast and use wild hand gestures and sometimes I even express myself in riddles." She pauses for a split second then and pins Frankie with a look that dares her to attempt to cut her down again. It makes Frankie feel small and she can do nothing but keep her mouth shut. "Most people find me annoying and I had to transfer divisions because nobody wanted to work with me," Chloe follows on with a heavy sigh, "which would hurt, but I grew up with stiff, straight-laced parents who wanted me to calm down and spent me entire childhood telling me I wasn't _normal_ , and that they were ashamed of the way I was. So, we might not be the same, but I kinda get it, is all I'm saying. And you could talk to me, you know, if you ever wanted to."

"Yeah, well... thanks, but I don't," Frankie retorts aloofly, watching as Chloe's face falls at her rejection. It's not that she doesn't _want_ to necessarily, it's just that she's not sure she'd know _how_ , or where to even begin.

Right from the start, from that very first unexpected kiss at Gail and Holly's wedding, there's been no pretence as to who they are to one another or what they're doing.

They're _not_ friends, they never have been, hell they've spent most of the time they've known and worked together bickering and barely tolerating each other.

That they've stumbled into this _whatever_ it is they're doing, is wholly the fault of loneliness and alcohol induced courage. Frankie's pretty certain that had they never been at a wedding, surrounded by people in love and contagious happiness, they never would have been drawn together at all.

The fact that they enjoy each other sexually has no indication that they'd enjoy each other on a deeper level. In reality, Frankie's thinks that the only reason they can stand to be around each other most of the time is because they enjoy finding ways to shut each other up, and as it turns out, communicating by _not_ talking is the _one_ thing they actually have in common.

The truth of the matter is, she relies on moments of mindlessness to get her through some of her toughest days, and sex is the easiest way for her to achieve that zen state. Sex with someone as pliable and reactive and capable as Chloe is just the icing on the cake, and Frankie doesn't want to ruin what they have by tainting it with _feelings_. She knows from experience that it never works out well for her when she tries to bring them into the mix. It complicates everything, and what Frankie needs is less complication in her life, not more.

Chloe sighs deeply and frowns as she lets her eyes drop from Frankie's, and Frankie instantly feels her heart pinch at the dejected posture that's settled evidently in Chloe's body. She doesn't want to hurt her, but she also doesn't want to give Chloe a false idea of what they share.

It makes Frankie think that maybe it's been a mistake right from the very start, just a momentary slip-up, a temporary insanity, this thing that they're doing. Chloe is the type of person who will always yearn for more, despite what she says and what she does, and Frankie will never be able to give more than she currently is.

Maybe it's better that she doesn't encourage it, maybe this way Chloe will know where they stand, and Frankie won't have to worry about ever being the cause of sorrow in those beautiful, dark eyes ever again.

"It's nothing personal, Chloe," Frankie adds, softening her words and giving her a small smile to try and ease the sting she knows Chloe's feeling. "It's my robotic heart, it doesn't let me do sharing and girl talk, it's only been programmed with insufferable smartass-ness, at least that's Peck's explanation for why I'm such an asshole," she quips, trying to transform the frown on Chloe's lips into a smile of some sort.

"Not personal, right okay, whatever, just forget it," Chloe huffs more to herself then to Frankie as she stands up and heads back over to the board, ripping down a couple of the photos carelessly. "This unicorn tattoo on your vic has a gang symbol hidden amongst the charms flying around it, so it's probably a hit murder or something," she says curtly, dumping the photos in Frankie's lap before stalking away. "Just FYI."

"Price," Frankie calls hurriedly after her, glancing down at the photos in her lap and holding them up awkwardly with a grateful smile, "good work."

Chloe just forces a small, pursed lip smile and nods solemnly in return before turning on her heel and going, and Frankie thinks maybe it will be fairer to them both from now on if she just stays away from Chloe and leaves her be.

It's the best thing – the _right_ thing – to do, and Frankie tells herself that the painful way her heart is clenching guiltily as she watches Chloe retreat away from her, will pass eventually.

(She worries that the depth of her unexpected remorse might swallow her whole if it doesn't).

(Frankie _needs_ that feeling to pass more than anything).

(And soon).


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I think this is going to be about 13 chapters in total, so we're about halfway. Thank you all for sticking with me!

* * *

Frankie does her very best to keep true to her intentions of doing the right thing and leaving Chloe alone to her own devices in the next couple of weeks that follow, and it seems that Chloe has the same idea of minimising their interactions because she doesn't make any more efforts to approach Frankie either.

They only see each other from afar for the first couple of days, luckily not having to interact on a professional level at all, and Frankie's never been more thankful to the powers at be that they're not being forced awkwardly together.

The only time she sees Chloe up close and personal happens by chance as she's waiting impatiently outside the locker room for Gail to change so that they can go and get a mid-week drink at The Penny. Somehow – and Frankie didn't even know she was still at the station – Chloe emerges before Gail does, and it's the most uncomfortable Frankie's ever felt as their eyes meet, Chloe's step faltering as they stare mutely back at each other, neither of them sure what the protocol is now for their odd dynamic.

"Hey," Frankie mumbles into the tense silence, the word leaving her mouth before she even realises she's spoken it, and her lungs constricting harshly as she fights to breathe through the thick, tense air that's settled in around them.

Chloe's eyes widen slightly at the greeting, almost as if she didn't actually expect Frankie to acknowledge her, and just as her lips part to reply, Kelley comes bounding out of the men's locker room and throws his arm around Chloe's shoulders, stealing her attention.

"You ready?" he asks, his smile bright enough to momentarily crash through the awkwardness still lingering heavily between them.

Chloe glances fleetingly over at Frankie like she wants to say something, _anything_ , but then without finding the courage to do so, lets her gaze return to Kelley and nods, a small smile forcing its way onto her lips. "Sure am," she replies rather tightly, the normal chirp in her tone completely lacking.

Kelley grins wider in response, utterly oblivious to the strain between them, and quickly nods politely in Frankie's direction before pulling Chloe closer into his side and guiding her towards the exit.

Frankie tries not to think too hard about the way the sight of their retreating forms, pressed intimately together, makes her stomach knot unpleasantly, a knot that only seems to twist even tighter when Chloe daringly glances back at her for a split second, the expression that materialises on her face startlingly forlorn as she flashes Frankie a wistful, pursed-lipped smile.

Despite the distressing way Frankie's heart seizes woefully in her chest when Chloe turns away from her once more, she tries to remind herself that this is how things are meant to be, for the better, for both of them, and tries not to think about how it feels like she's teetering on the edge of some kind of unknown abyss.

* * *

In the ensuing days, it gets harder and harder not to interact with Chloe, especially when Frankie's case entwines with one of Traci's big cases and everyone is brought in on it to help out.

They're not working exclusively together – Chloe being sent to gather witness statements with her over-eager puppy of a rookie Kelley (who Frankie has taken to absolutely – and somewhat irrationally – _loathing),_ while Frankie helps Traci try and pin down the wider gang affiliations to her murder victim – but working together just enough that it feels stifling at times.

During those time when they are both trapped at the station however, Frankie will feel the hairs at the nape of her neck prickling and standing on end with the overwhelming notion that she's being watched. Whenever she feels it, and glances up, it's always to find Chloe watching her intently, the longing in her eyes enough to leave Frankie's stomach niggling with an emotion she can't quite name.

Frankie tries not to look back, or at least, tries not to get caught looking back, but sometimes she can't help herself, that niggling feeling spreading throughout her body and destroying her resistance until she's consumed with the need to look, to observe what Chloe's doing and to absorb her every movement.

On those times when she does actually allow herself the weakness of looking, it's normally when Chloe's busy, her focus elsewhere, and then Frankie finds her eyes trailing over every inch of Chloe's body, often becoming transfixed on certain parts of her like an obsession; the soft, tantalizing sweep of her neck, her small but strong hands and their dainty but powerful fingers, the perfect bow of her lips; pouty and full and undeniably kissable, her dazzling, infectious smile, hell even the cute curve of her adorable little ears steals Frankie's attention for longer than it should.

It leaves Frankie's head spinning, her desire for Chloe blossoming wildly, uncontrollably, throughout her mind, body, and soul, in a way Frankie can't seem to tamper down or get a hold of no matter how hard she tries. She knows it's insane to be this devoured with want for one person, a person who for most of the time she's know her, Frankie has barely been able to tolerate, but it's like Chloe's kiss has left her infected, and now the only moments of sanity Frankie can achieve come when she lets herself get lost in Chloe's embrace, like her naked body pressed to Frankie's own is the only cure available.

Frankie's never had this problem before, normally more than content to spend one night quenching her hunger for a woman before moving on to her next desire, but for reasons Frankie doesn't know how to explain, her craving for Chloe just won't be satisfied so easily.

She blames her insatiable lust for Chloe on the lacking sexual encounters she's had since Gail. Peck might not have been in love with her, and she most certainly wasn't in love with Gail, but the sex they'd shared had been explosive. Gail knew exactly how to touch a woman in all the right ways to drive her crazy, and Frankie had appreciated that – looking back now, Frankie thinks that maybe she should really buy Holly some kind of gift for her superior lesbian tutelage – and it's not that her one-night stands have been awful since, they've been fine, even good sometimes, but Price, as it happens, just happens to be really fucking talented.

Frankie ascribes her burning feelings of want for Chloe to her body just craving to be touched by knowing hands, and thinks that maybe, if she just tries to find another woman who can equally satisfy her demanding needs, those feelings will evaporate.

Until she can do that though, Frankie settles on her effort to stay strong and stick to her plan; leave Chloe alone and try not to interact with her unless somebody else is present. After all, it's really, the only option she has for now until she can get a grasp on her feelings.

* * *

As it turns out, however, even the most genuine of plans don't always, necessarily, play out the way they're designed.

(It's not Frankie's fault _at all_ , she justifies to herself later, it's just _circumstances_ , really).

With the case finally wrapped up after a gruelling fourteen days of stressful twists and turns, Frankie's never been more glad then to just sit back and finish up her paperwork in the quiet. Once she's done, she can head out to the nearest bar, get drunk, and pick up some hot woman to take home for the night, and try desperately not to think about how she doesn't seem to fit against her just right like a certain bright red-haired officer – who Frankie _still_ can't get out of her head – seems to.

Fighting against her desire for Chloe these past couple of weeks has been exhausting, and all Frankie wants to do is to find a way to go back to enjoying mindless, no strings attached sex with strangers, and she's determined to try as many women as she needs to get back there.

It's late when she finally finishes up, the station mostly quiet apart from a few officers mulling about as they pass in and out preparing for their night-shifts, and that's why Frankie's caught completely off guard when she goes to log her final item into evidence, to find Chloe already inside the room searching for something.

She hadn't even known Chloe was still on shift, but as the door clicks shut behind her and Chloe turns to see who's entered, their eyes instantly locking, Frankie can't help but immediately feel weirdly unprepared about being alone with her so unexpectedly after days of being so careful about ensuring that doesn't happen.

"Price," Frankie acknowledges awkwardly, feeling like she should at least say something now that they're confined in such a small space together, even as they struggle to maintain eye contact as an increasingly familiar, heavy, and insufferable tension settles around them.

"Detective," Chloe nods rather stiffly in return, glancing away swiftly as she goes back to searching for the evidence bag she's looking for, and Frankie tries to ignore the way Chloe's cold rebuff makes her heart pinch painfully.

Frankie swallows thickly and clenches her jaw as she squeezes past Chloe to get to the shelf she needs, hurrying to log her evidence in the correct place so she can get the hell out of there as quickly as humanly possible, and away from the unbearable weight suddenly crushing down on her chest and making it hard for her to breathe.

She doesn't mean to let their bodies brush as she passes Chloe in her desperate route to leave, but it really is a small space, and Chloe seems to mistime stepping in to allow Frankie more room to pass by behind her, and then suddenly Frankie's breasts are pressing briefly, faintly, into Chloe's arm, and that little, barely there touch, is enough to draw them back together like an inescapable addiction.

It sends a shockwave through Frankie's body, a prickle running down her spine as her pulse races beneath her skin, and every sense she has becomes attuned to nothing but Chloe Price; the smell of her floral perfume invading Frankie's lungs and making her head spin, the sound of Chloe's sharp, shaky inhale as she turns to face Frankie, the warm brown of her eyes darkening under her dilating pupils and making Frankie flush heatedly, the pressure of her grasp as her fingers curl around Frankie's neck and tug her into a searing kiss, and the addictive, unique, heavenly taste of Chloe's lips that Frankie's been craving and hungering for like a desert that's been without rain finally surging back with her own.

It's startling how easily they fall in to each other, fitting easily together again like some fucked up jigsaw puzzle, like they haven't been apart for the past couple of weeks with the weight of their last conversation between them.

Frankie doesn't know how long they stand there kissing heavily, making out like horny teenagers that are too inexperienced to do more than kiss, but as their kisses gradually grow in intensity, Frankie feels herself growing dizzy, her knees buckling beneath the increasing urgency of them.

Except the truth of the matter is that they're not inexperienced at this, not with each other, not at all, and Chloe seems to remember this fact first, her hands sliding down from their grasp at Frankie's neck and pushing firmly at Frankie's shoulders until she's backed up against the wall, the length of their bodies pressing flush against one another as Chloe turns their kisses deeper, dirtier, all tongue and teeth, and lets her greedy hands wander freely over Frankie's curves.

The movement unsettles Frankie and leaves her stunned into inaction for a long, drawn out moment, not used to Chloe being the one to take the lead and dominate, but then just as quickly, her hands are scrambling for purchase at Chloe's waist as she eagerly returns the frantic ferocity of their kisses.

It's because nobody has touched her in awhile, Frankie thinks, that even the slightest touch of Chloe's fingers sneaking beneath her shirt and grazing against her bare skin, makes her part from their kisses with a gasp.

Chloe's eyes sparkle smugly at the reaction her caress has drawn, and Frankie instantly feels the need to regain the upper-hand, to be the one leaving Chloe a trembling, moaning mess at the mercy of her expert lips and hands. Before Chloe even has a chance to initiate another kiss between them and capitalise on Frankie's weakness, Frankie surges forward and kisses Chloe hard, her tongue sweeping into Chloe's mouth as she presses Chloe back against the shelves opposite them with her hips, easily sliding her thigh between Chloe's legs and drawing a deep, appreciative moan from the back of her throat.

While Chloe's momentarily dazed from their change of pace, Frankie takes the opportunity to trail her lips along Chloe's jaw, kissing and licking down the delicious slope of her neck until Chloe's panting wantonly and heedlessly grinding her hips down against Frankie's thigh, trying desperately to create some sort of satisfying friction.

Frankie palms Chloe's breasts, thumbing her hardening nipples over her shirt as she sucks at Chloe's neck, overcome with the need to leave a mark, wanting Chloe to see it when she looks in the mirror and remember how she got it and _who_ exactly gave it to her.

When Chloe whimpers in response and draws Frankie's face back up to hers, nipping at her lip before kissing her roughly, it feels like everything is back to how it should be between them, and Frankie wonders if maybe she was overzealous in deciding that it would be for the best if they never did this again.

The thought passes just as quickly as it comes though, when Chloe suddenly ends their incessant, heated kisses by pushing at Frankie's shoulders, creating some space between their heaving chests.

"What's wrong?" Frankie pants breathlessly, her eyebrows knitting in confusion as to why they're suddenly stopping just when things are getting good. "I thought you wanted this."

"I do," Chloe murmurs back, biting at her bottom lip coyly, her cheeks flushed sexily. "Just not here, okay?" she adds as she reaches to gently brush the hair from Frankie's face with a fond smile curling at the corners of her mouth, and letting her thumb idly trace over Frankie's kissed bruised lips. "I told Kelley I'd stay and help him finish up his report, but I can come by later when I'm done. I'll bring some wine and some Chinese, and then we can pick up where we left off and properly mingle limbs."

It suddenly feels like it's too much again – Chloe's gesture far too sweet and tender – that it sobers Frankie immediately, and forces her to take a step back away from Chloe's body and her misplaced affection, and sternly shake her head.

"We're _not_ together, Chloe," Frankie replies coolly, feeling like Chloe needs yet another reminder of the simple fact; that perhaps they both do. "Why do you have to keep trying to make it more than it is?"

She doesn't need wining and dining, and the promise of coming over later, it's too planned, too familiar, too _intimate_. Frankie doesn't understand why Chloe can't seem to get that. Chloe's not hers, just like she's not Chloe's. Frankie's nobody's but her own.

What they're doing is nothing like Gail and Holly or Andy and Sam. They're not a couple, hell they're not even dating. They're just... Frankie doesn't know how to explain it, or what to call it exactly, all she knows is that it's _different_ from what those couples have; it's most certainly _not_ love what she and Chloe share.

(It can't be...)

Chloe's expression remains muted but Frankie sees the glimmer of anger in Chloe's eyes, in the way her nostrils flare slightly at her words. "Yeah, I got that we're just fuck buddies last time we spoke, Frankie," Chloe bites back as she pushes herself away from the shelves, her arms coming to fold defensively across her chest and forcing Frankie to take another step back as she pushes into her personal space, "but since when does offering to bring take-out make it _more_? It's just food, fuel to give us energy. I never said I'd bring candles and flowers. I'm not trying to romance you, Frankie, despite what your insufferable ego might be telling you. I'm just trying to be friendly."

The bluntness of Chloe's outburst cuts into Frankie like the sharp blade of a knife, piercing her all the way down to the bone, wounding her irreversibly, and leaving her struggling to find a response as Chloe remains fiercely staring her down.

She's not sure if it's luck or bad fortune that has Kelley popping his head into the room before she can compose herself enough to reply, but whatever it is, Frankie feels like there's no right way to untangle the chaos they've let themselves fall so clumsily into, no way to make sense of it at all.

"Hey, Chlo... Detective Anderson, hey, sorry I didn't know you were in here too," Kelley apologises with a sheepish smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting, it's just I could really use a hand with that report," Kelley says with a small smile, glancing between them somewhat cautiously when neither of them pay him much attention, refusing to look away from each other. "Shaw is on my ass to have it in within the hour, and then I was thinking maybe we could grab some food afterwards, Chloe, my treat, just to say thanks for all your help."

Frankie feels her hackles rise at his mere presence, his voice grating on the last shreds of her nerves and filling her veins with the irrational white, hot, untameable heat of anger.

"Seems to me like you already have a friend, Chloe, no need for any more," Frankie sneers unkindly, the words rushing from her mouth before she can over-think them.

She doesn't wait for Chloe to respond then, before pushing roughly past Kelley and leaving them to each other, and tries to ignore the way the thought of them together, sharing food, sharing drinks, maybe even sharing their bodies, is making her feel sick to her stomach.

Frankie wishes that she didn't catch the devastatingly hurt look on Chloe's face out of the corner of her eye as she blows past her, because it steals the anger from her at once, and in its place leaves her heart aching so damn much that Frankie doesn't think she'll ever be able to forget it.

She doesn't know how she's supposed to move past this mess if she can't.

* * *

The music in the club is ridiculously loud.

So loud, that Frankie can't hear anything, especially not her own plaguing thoughts, instead all she can feel is her heart thudding along in time with the baseline, and the alcohol rushing through her bloodstream as she lets herself get swept away amongst the mass of swaying bodies on the dance floor.

She lets herself lose track of time, content to just get fucked up and relish in the mindless bliss it brings her. It feels good not to think, to forget all of her worries, just for a little bit, and have her focus hijacked instead by the vodka shots she's downed and that are currently burning through her veins and clouding her mind.

In this club, in this moment, Frankie is nobody.

She's not the detective with the disgraced ex-partner, or the woman who other women can't stand to be around for longer than they have to and whose relationships never last, she's not the abandoned daughter, or the fuck buddy that's not really a buddy.

She's simply just another swaying body lost in the crowd, and it feels amazing.

It feels even more amazing when Frankie feels somebody's breath hot on the back of neck, hands settling in on her hips and moulding their bodies together as they guide her to the beat of the music. It feels even better when lips press to her sweaty skin, trailing lust filled kisses down along her neck as cool hands slip up beneath her shirt, and scratch wantonly against the heated flesh of her stomach before moving up to squeeze roughly at her breasts.

It should be even better still, when a hand curls around her forearm and tugs her into the nearest toilet cubicle, fumbling hands making quick work of unzipping her jeans while they trade sloppy, blundering kisses as eager fingers finally slip inside her, but it isn't.

Her mind flashes with images of red hair, of eyes that penetrate into her soul, of knowing fingers and a knowing mouth, of a sweet but confident smile and teasing kisses that leave her body feeling like jelly, and just like that her random hook-up doesn't feel the same as usual, the easy, mindlessness of her encounter is missing, and Frankie is left clenching her eyes tightly shut as guilt crashes through her, and hopelessly willing her body to block out the images and just respond.

It doesn't, and for the first time in her life Frankie feels dirty and shamed and fakes an orgasm just to get it over with, and realises that while she wishes for everything to still be the same, it's _not_.

In fact every thing is totally fucking different now, and it's all thanks to Chloe Price.

And no matter how much it terrifies Frankie to even fleetingly consider what that might really mean, or how much the notion of it makes her want to run, she knows that she can't; she knows she has to face up to it, in some way, and sooner rather than later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Between the Shadow and the Soul: Chapter 7/?**

* * *

" _Are you ready to go, sweetheart?" her mother's voice calls out as the sound of soft footsteps approaches her bedroom._

 _Frankie doesn't move from her spot perched against the edge of her bed, and when her mother pokes her head into her room a moment later, her little sister perched on her hip and already wearing her coat, all Frankie can do is clench her hands into fists and shake her head back at her._

" _I don't understand why I have to go," Frankie replies, kicking idly at the overnight bag sat at her feet. "I don't want to, it's a stupid idea."_

 _Her mother smiles sadly at her and bends down to settle Olivia onto the floor, leaving her to toddle around while she comes to sit next to Frankie, her fingers instantly reaching out to unfurl Frankie's own so that she can hold her small hand between her own._

" _It's not stupid, Franks," her mother chides softly, turning to meet Frankie's eyes. "You've just gone up to junior high, it's important that you make some new friends, and this sleepover is a chance to get to know some of the other girls better."_

" _I don't want to get to know them better, they're all airheads, only into make-up and boys. I'm fine on my own. I don't need friends like them, and besides I have you," Frankie fires bulk sulkily._

 _Her mother sighs at her words, the argument between them so old and predictable now, that they both know how it goes, never seeming to change. "You need real friends, Frankie, girls and boys your own age," her mother reasons gently, wrapping her arm around Frankie's shoulders and squeezing. "I'll always be your best friend, but I'm also your mom, and as a mom I want you to have lots of friends, I want you to be happy and having fun, smiling and laughing always."_

" _They're not my friends though," Frankie objects with a scowl. "The only reason I'm even invited is because Kylie's mom and you became friends at that toddler play group you take Olivia and her little sister to."_

 _Her mother frowns at her words, knowing them to be true, but wanting to be the voice of reason, she tries again. "Look, I know you don't want to go," she consoles softly, "that you're more than happy on your own, but please just do this for me, just this once. Just try and make friends at the sleepover and if you don't like it, I won't make you go to another again."_

 _Frankie stares back at her mother quietly for a few moments, searching her eyes for answers. "Why is it so important to you?"_

" _Because you're my baby girl, Frankie, and I don't want you to grow up being lonely. You're such a sweet person, you're funny and kind and smart and you need to share that with people, even if it's only a selected few," her mother responds reaching up with her spare hand to lovingly cup Frankie's face. "One day, in the far away future, dad and I won't be around, and it would break my heart if I knew we'd left you feeling alone in the world. I want you to have people who know you and love you just as much as I do."_

" _Okay, I'll go, and I'll be nice," Frankie relents with a huff, feeling her mother's words washing over her. "But I'm not making any promises that I'll end up being BFFs with any of them."_

 _Her mother smiles brightly in response and leans in to kiss her forehead. "That's all I ask," her mother replies. "How about when I pick you up in the morning, we'll go for pancakes, just you and me?"_

 _Frankie smiles earnestly. "I'd like that."_

" _Me too," her mother says with a matching grin, squeezing Frankie a final time before getting up and swooping Olivia back up to her hip. "Now, come and put your coat and shoes on, you don't want to be the last one to arrive."_

" _What about you? Won't you be lonely if I go?" Frankie tries twenty minutes later, a final protest as her mother pulls the car up outside of Kylie's house._

 _Her mother laughs and shakes her head. "Your father is only going out after work to have a few drinks with Saul, he'll be home later to keep me company."_

 _A few drinks, yeah right, they both know that's a lie, but Frankie doesn't press the matter, seeing the sadness lingering beneath the surface of her mother's eyes. "Do I really have to do this?" she protests again instead._

" _Yes," her mother says firmly, but with a loving smile softening the word. "For me, remember?"_

" _Okay," Frankie relents, nodding her head, and knowing that she'd do anything if it could help ease her mother's sadness and bring her even a small sliver of happiness, even if it means doing things she doesn't really want to._

" _Now go, and remember that it's okay to let people see your beautiful heart, and that I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, okay?" Frankie nods at the words, accepting the kiss her mother presses to her cheek with a murmured 'I love you, sweetheart' before getting out of the car and heading up to the front door, and watching reluctantly as her mother drives away with an encouraging wave as Kylie's mother ushers her inside._

Frankie wakes from her dream with a start, completely disorientated and drenched in a cold sweat as Chloe's name tumbles unexpectedly from her lips. She breathes hard against the tightness in her chest and presses her palm against her pounding heart as she tries to regain her senses, the backs of her eyelids burning with the blinding lights of sirens and the memory of her mother's words echoing loudly in her ears.

* * *

It's early when Frankie throws on her clothes and heads out into the cool morning air, the sun yet to have risen in the sky and a light rain spilling down from the clouds, the gloomy day perfectly matching her sombre mood.

She walks slowly to her destination, letting the rain cleanse her of the shame and guilt she feels for her behaviour towards Chloe the previous day and her actions the previous evening, and lets herself relapse into her old disgusting habit of smoking. Frankie knows it's ridiculously bad for her health, but something about the routine action of bringing it up to her lips, inhaling and then exhaling a chain of smoke as she feels her lungs burning at the vile taste, helps to settle her anxious nerves.

Frankie stubs the end out beneath her foot when she finally arrives, knowing her mother would never approve of such a thing in a million years, and takes a deep, shuddering breath to steady herself as she approaches.

She hasn't been here in a couple of years, her visits always having been a rarity, only ever coming when everything in her life feels impossibly jumbled and at a loss, but she knows she needs to clear her mind and find some clarity on this situation she's stumbled into with Chloe, and she knows that the dream she had last night is a sign that she needs to turn to the only person who could ever help her figure things out.

"Hi mom," Frankie murmurs faintly, dropping down onto her knees and reaching out to trail her fingertips across the cold stone of her headstone, sweeping them across the letters carved deeply into it and spelling out her name. "Hi Liv," she echoes, leaning forward to touch the smaller headstone next to her mother's. "I'm sorry I haven't come by in awhile."

She means the words more than anything, but coming here is never easy for her. It brings back painful memories that Frankie tries so hard to push to the back of her mind the majority of the time, and always leaves her feeling more fucked up than she already was before she came.

"Dad keeps calling me," Frankie says even as her eyes prickle with tears, figuring that she had better start with something somewhat familiar if she's ever going to be able to do this. "I know you'd probably tell me not to keep ignoring him if you could, but I just... I don't know how to talk to him. There's nothing for us to say to one another without you there to bridge the gap."

It's true, she knows it, and she knows her mother knew it. Frankie never has had the easiest relationship with her father, but it's only gotten worse in the years since the accident. She's never stopped being angry at him for being the one driving that night when she called home for them to pick her up from that stupid sleepover, his couple of drinks with Saul, unsurprisingly ending up being more than just a couple. Enough, in fact, that when he loaded her sleepy mother and little sister into the car to come with him to pick Frankie up that night, that he was far past the legal limit.

Frankie knows it was an accident, that her father hadn't meant to hurt them, but in his hazy recklessness, the car crash that he unintentionally caused resulted in the unfair death of her mother and little sister, and left his culpable, drunk ass, alive.

Afterwards, he could never look at her properly, claiming that Frankie reminded him too much of her mother for him to bear, but Frankie thinks his distance was partly because he blamed her for what happened too. He'd always been the one least sympathetic when it came to her resisting making friends, insisting to her mother that Frankie should just get on with it, and so the fact that she'd given in and called them only hours after her mother had dropped her off and asked to come home, in her father's mind, makes her at least partly responsible for what happened to them.

She knows too, that he also pushed her away because he felt guilty about what he'd done, but it was never quite enough to get him to take back control of his life and stop drinking himself into oblivion. Never quite enough to stop him being so selfish and to act like a parent and put Frankie's needs first while she continued growing up, never quite enough to give her the love and support she so desperately needed and craved while she grieved the loss of her family.

He might have lost his wife, but Frankie lost her mother too, and Frankie's never stopped resenting him for what happened, so even if he does partly blame her, she guesses in some fucked up way, they're kind of even.

Frankie's self aware enough to know that it's probably part of the reason why she's gotten so used to going at life alone, why she still struggles to properly connect with people on a deeper level, and why she feels too old and too jaded now to even know how to start letting someone in.

Without the continued guidance of her mother, and her forced independence at such a young age, Frankie never really learned how to make friends and lean on someone. It's why she's always found it easier to just sleep around, allowing herself brief tastes of connections, but never something too real, or too intimate to expose the truths of her heart and soul.

Except Chloe has somehow gotten to her, how exactly, Frankie isn't sure, but she's wormed her way past Frankie's hard shell and into Frankie's fractured heart, and left Frankie desperately wanting to go back to her for more time and time again.

Chloe makes her feel things she's never felt before, whether Frankie's prepared for all that entails or not. The dependency she's starting to feel is something Frankie has no idea how to handle, it doesn't seem right to her, surely it can't be healthy to be so reliant on one person, to be so vulnerable beneath their eyes.

The notion that she might not be able to rid herself of these feelings is utterly terrifying, and Frankie needs someone – needs her _mom_ – to tell her how to deal with this without crumbling apart.

As the sun rises slowly, beautifully, in the distance, the wind picking up and whistling around her, Frankie swears she hears her mother's voice in the breeze, once again whispering, " _I don't want you to grow up being lonely. You're such a sweet person, you're funny and kind and smart and you need to share that with people, even if it's only a selected few"._

It makes Frankie think of what she shares with Chloe, of how Chloe has been pushing for them to share slightly more, despite her words to the contrary. Frankie knows, deep in her soul, that it isn't what it was when they started, that without them even meaning to let it happen, that it's changed somehow. It's gotten familiar, comfortable, more frequent, and so maybe Chloe is right in pressing for a little more, maybe they don't have to be together but they don't have to just be fuck buddies either.

Maybe she can do what her mother always wanted her to do, maybe she can find a way to give a little more of herself, to share a little more of her true heart, and make friends with Chloe properly.

Frankie thinks it's worth a try at least, anything has got to less exhausting than always being so isolated and lonely.

* * *

"What's this?" Chloe questions bluntly, looking up from her report as Frankie settles a cup of coffee and a croissant down in front of her.

Frankie immediately feels awkward beneath Chloe's impatient eyes, but forces herself to exhale deeply and smile. "Thought you could use some caffeine and some breakfast after you stayed working late last night."

Chloe's eyebrows pinch together at her answer and she slumps back in her chair, a heavy sigh escaping past her lips as she regards Frankie carefully. "I thought food was a friendly thing, Frankie? And as I remember, you made it very clear that we're _not_ friends, so..." she drawls, handing the coffee back to Frankie and turning back to her report.

Frankie swallows thickly and squares her shoulders, determined to strengthen her resolve and push through this uncomfortable, difficult stage. She knew when she decided to do this that Chloe was probably going to be stand-offish and angry with her – Frankie doesn't begrudge her that for a single second, she knows what an asshole she's been – and so it's down to her to keep trying, no matter how many times Chloe rebuffs her attempts, to make things right between them.

"I was a jackass," Frankie voices as she sets the coffee calmly down again and waits until Chloe glances back at her once more before shrugging apologetically. "So just let me buy you a coffee, okay?" she says with a sheepish smile. "I'm... I'm _trying_ here, Muppet."

Maybe it's the use of the nickname that suddenly sounds more like a term of endearment than an insult that slips past Frankie's lips that does it, but Chloe's eyes soften slightly, and Frankie thinks Chloe must see how difficult it is for her to swallow her pride, be the bigger person and make the first step, because Chloe accepts the coffee this time, sipping at it before nodding her head in Frankie's direction.

"Thank you for the coffee," she replies with a small hint of a smile, "and for the food, I appreciate the gesture."

Frankie grins back at her, feeling the crushing weight on her chest slowly fading away. "Okay, good," she breathes in relief, more to herself than to Chloe, and then, "We're okay, right?"

"It's just coffee, don't make it weird, Detective," Chloe hums rather teasingly, her cheeks dimpling cutely as she briefly flashes Frankie a toothy, reassuring smile.

Frankie knows that a simple cup of coffee doesn't put everything right between them, but when Chloe tells her to stop hovering and shoos her away, her eyes no longer holding anger but glimmering cheerfully like they usually do – like they're always _meant_ to – in a way that instantly warms Frankie's heart, it feels like a promising start.


	8. Chapter 8

**Between the Shadow and the Soul: Chapter 8/?**

* * *

 **A/N:** As always, thank you all for the likes, kudos', faves, follows, and feedback. It's great to hear that you're enjoying this pairing :)

* * *

Another day, another dead body for her to look over, only this time when Frankie gets the bright and early call to go and look over a body found at the bottom of a park lake, it's in a part of the city that just falls on the boundary line between fifteen division and twenty-seven division.

It shouldn't really fall into her hands, given that an Officer Luck and an Officer Roberts from twenty-seven are they ones to respond to the call and see the body first, but when the same gang symbol is found tattooed on the body pulled from the lake that was also on the body from her case from a few weeks back, twenty-seven is forced to hand it over to her.

Peck has warned her about Luck before, how she's all lame jokes and ego and average police work, and even though Frankie's seen her in passing on the job before, she's never had the pleasure – or as she comes to very quickly discover, the _displeasure_ – of working with her closely.

"Officers," Frankie greets coolly, tugging her coat tighter around her as small flurries of snow begin to fall down from the cloudless sky.

"Detective Anderson," Luck greets with a sly grin, walking with her as Frankie starts making her way over to where she can see Holly already examining the body. "Lesbian, right?" Luck presses rudely. "The one that had a fling with chicken police Peck."

Frankie glances quickly at Holly, who looks mildly uncomfortable at Luck's presence and the nature of the conversation, but refuses to look up from her examination, and then glares back at Luck. "And?"

"And, isn't it weird how you and I, and Peck, are the only open lesbians on the force, and yet we've never really hung-out. I mean, I know Peck's all boring and settled down now, with you, right Doc?" Luck directs at Holly, not waiting for her to confirm before turning her attention back to Frankie. "But I hear you, on the other hand, like myself, like to drink and have fun, and _fuck_..." she drawls the word out, her hand reaching out to flirtatiously trail down Frankie's arm. "So, maybe we should get together and do that sometime."

Peck was right, Luck is all sneering confidence and not in a fun bantering way, but rather in a way that's like nails down a chalkboard, repulsive and teeth-clenching, and making Frankie's stomach roll with nausea.

"Yeah, no thanks," Frankie laughs in response, shaking Luck's hand off her arm, "you're about as appealing as this stinking, rotting corpse, Luck, so why don't you get out of my face and get back to securing the perimeter before I write you up."

Luck's face falters slightly at her rejection, but Frankie just stares her down and nods her head back towards where Officer Roberts is standing, and waits unwaveringly as Luck rolls her eyes and mutters ' _whatever, your loss_ ' before stalking away.

"Sorry about that," Frankie says then, once Luck's finally out of hearing distance, turning to face Holly, and feeling relieved when she sees Holly is smiling in amusement, her posture slowly relaxing again.

She respects Holly a lot, for being trusting enough and secure enough in her love for Gail and Gail's love for her, to constantly be okay being surrounded by Gail's ex's, like some kind of real life inescapable nightmare. It can't be an easy thing to do, and Frankie doesn't think she could do it herself – knows the jealousy (and she's still loathe to call it that) would consume her now that she's had a small taste of what it feels like – so in her eyes that makes it even more commendable that Holly mostly remains calm and unfazed by the likes of her, Nick, Chris, and even that hot mess Luck.

Holly had been weary of her at first, of course, but Frankie had simply saved Gail from having to awkwardly explain the nature of their relationship by telling Holly that yes, she had bedded Gail, but also that Gail hadn't shut the fuck up about _her_ the whole time they'd known each other, and that Frankie was frankly glad to be handing her back over, citing that she needed someone less pale and irritating and lovesick than Gail. It hadn't taken Holly long to get over it, luckily, her qualms eased especially when Frankie had happily left them to their reconciliation at The Penny that night by going home with a tall, big breasted, tanned brunette hanging all over her.

They're not friends by any means, but Frankie knows Holly's not threatened by her in the least, and she appreciates that fact, because it means she's gotten to keep Peck as her drinking, bantering, bitchy buddy.

"Never did I think I'd say this, but I'm glad it was _you_ Gail slept with while we weren't together," Holly replies earnestly. "I mean, you're horribly obnoxious and full of yourself, but at least you're less insufferable than she is. I don't think I could have handled it if it had been her, she makes my skin crawl for some reason."

"Aww thanks, Doc, that's quite the compliment coming from you," Frankie grins in response, and then with a teasing wink, adds, "Let me know if you and Peck ever decide you do want a threesome."

Holly shakes her head and sighs. "And just like that you're back to being intolerable," she says with a smile. "Don't hold your breath on that threesome idea, Detective, I'm more than you'd be able to handle, and I think Gail would gouge your eyes out if you ever suggested it to her."

Frankie holds her hands up in acquiescence, impressed by Holly's confidence and amused by the truth behind Gail's lacking desire to share. "Message received loud and clear," Frankie says with a smile, and then bobs down on her heels to get a closer look at the body. "How long has he been in the lake?"

"About forty-eight hours," Holly explains, glad to have the mood shift back to professional, and then reaches out to point at deep, red marks around the body's neck. "Looks like he was strangled first, somewhere else more than likely, and then dumped here. I'll get you more details once I get him back to the lab and examine him properly."

"Thanks," Frankie replies, noting down some information in her notebook, and stopping only when she sees a cruiser from fifteen-division pull up, her back-up finally having arrived to take the case fully from those morons from twenty-seven division.

The sight of bright-red hair catches her attention first, instantly setting her heart hammering in her chest, and then as she pushes back up to her feet to get a better look, the second thing that catches her attention is the sound of Luck's annoying voice piercing the air and the pinched expression on Chloe's face as a result to whatever is being said to her.

"Be right back," Frankie mumbles to Holly, not bothering to look at her as she hurries over to where the group of officers are huddled together.

It's only as she gets closer, and Luck's voice transforms from a muffled noise into a clear, crisp sound, that Frankie's able to process the insulting, belittling taunts Luck is throwing Chloe's way.

"Years on the job and _still_ nobody can stand to ride with you, huh, Price?" Luck says with a laugh that Officer Roberts easily joins in with. "Not surprising really, nobody would want someone as irritating and flaky as you responsible for protecting their back."

Frankie feels her spine prickle with anger, her jaw clenching defensively as she watches hurt flash in Chloe's sad, brown eyes. Her usual sunshine-y attitude that doesn't let comments like this get to her suddenly nowhere to be found, Chloe's shoulders simply drooping from the blow of Luck's words instead as she wordlessly averts her gaze.

"I requested her actually," Frankie informs them sternly, inserting her presence into this ridiculous catty, school-girl ambush they've set up, and immediately stares Luck down with a deathly glare, and watches gladly as Luck seems to shrink beneath the weight of it. "Price is one of fifteen's best officers and top running candidate for the next rookie-detective position. So shut your useless, ignorant mouth, Luck, and get the hell off my crime scene."

She doesn't stop glaring at Luck until she's tugged at Officer Roberts arm and they've skittishly slinked back to their cruiser, driving off hurriedly, and only then lets her eyes fall to Chloe. The expression on Chloe's face now is a mix of surprise and appreciation, and a little bit of disbelief, almost like she's completely unused to having somebody so bluntly stand up for her.

"You didn't need to do that," Chloe murmurs, her voice small and her smile forced when she looks back at Frankie with a shrug and explains, "I'm used to it."

Frankie feels her brow furrow at her deflated response, because Chloe never just gives in without at least giving a little back, but then as Chloe purses her mouth together in a thin line and shrugs at her again before making to move past her, Frankie hears a voice echo in her ears, remembering a conversation they had once shared when Chloe was trying to get Frankie to open up; ' _I had to transfer divisions because nobody wanted to work with me'._

The memory of those words hurts more than it should, and makes Frankie feel even shittier and guilt-ridden about the way she's always just brushed Chloe off and shut her down with harsh words and a lack of sympathy or understanding.

"You shouldn't have to be," Frankie reinforces softly, catching hold of Chloe's wrist to halt her step. Chloe's eyes widen at the unexpected contact and as she opens her mouth to protest, Frankie just slides her hand down to Chloe's and squeezes comfortingly. "What I said to those idiots was the truth, Chloe. You're a _good_ officer, and a good partner, and you definitely have the mind to be a great detective someday. More importantly, you're a better cop than Luck can ever hope to be. Don't let people like her get to you, they're nothing."

Chloe blinks back at her for a few, long seconds, her eyes brightening slightly again and a shy smile curling at her lips. "Thank you," she says quietly, holding Frankie's gaze.

The sincerity of her response makes a warmth spread through Frankie's chest, and she feels herself smiling wider as she pulls a spare pair of latex gloves from her back pocket and holds them out for Chloe to take.

"Want to come check the body out? I could really use your help on this one, Price, think it's connected to _our_ unicorn tattoo vic," Frankie offers, watching as Chloe's expression shifts from shocked to grateful as she notes Frankie sharing the credit with her, and gladly accepts the gloves, a beautiful smile emerging on her lips and adorably crinkling the corners of her eyes as her whole face lights up with excitement.

Even with Holly glancing at her suspiciously, in a way that puts Frankie slightly on edge, as she lets Chloe quiz her on the information Frankie has already asked her about the body, it feels totally worth it just to see Chloe back to her bright, weird, sunshine-y self.

It makes Frankie feel good about herself in a way she isn't used to, that just by being honest and kind – and without having resorted to her normal method of sex – she's managed to make Chloe happy in some small way, and as she watches Chloe babble her theories to Holly, glancing over at Frankie every so often to share a small smile with her, Frankie can't help but feel like maybe she's taken her first proper step on her quest to be friends with Chloe Price.

* * *

The rest of the day passes in much the same fashion.

They spend the remainder of the morning with Holly at the lab, patiently waiting on her results, and Frankie takes the time to go over her old case notes while she lets Chloe fully immerse herself in watching Holly work, never having been present for an entire autopsy before. Holly answers all of her questions with passionate glee, her nerd brain making her fire back long-winded, complicated answers that only seem to leave Chloe more and more awe-struck.

(Over the past year of working closely together on cases and getting to watch Holly in her element, Frankie has come to understand why Gail fell so hard for her. Sure, Holly is a beautiful woman, that much has always been obvious to Frankie, but what makes her even more attractive is how utterly enthusiastic she is about her work, and how that highlights all the best qualities of her personality; her goofiness, her kindness, her intellect, her openness. They're traits that Frankie has grown to admire greatly, and while she still gets a kick out of teasing Gail about how nerdy Holly is, deep down she envies their relationship; the love and trust and respect they have for one another something Frankie knows most couples never fully share – her parents most certainly didn't and she never has with any of the women she's briefly dated – and so she gets that it's something to be cherished, even if it does make them act like lovesick fools around each other).

Once Holly hands over her findings, they spend the afternoon back at the station, tucked away in one of the break rooms, and surrounded by two sets of Frankie's case notes. Together they start trying to make links between the victims and piece the puzzle of the murders together, what gang, why, who, when, and where.

It's a tiring shift – a _long_ shift – that leaves her brain feeling utterly out of energy, and yet by the time they're ready to clock out at 8.p.m. that evening and call it a day, Frankie, despite her weariness, finds that she doesn't want to part from Chloe just yet at all.

Before, being stuck with the bright-red haired, chatter-box officer for twelve hours straight would have driven Frankie insane – _did_ drive Frankie insane enough, in fact, to actually kiss Chloe quiet and start this whole thing between them – but as they stand side-by-side in the locker room and prepare themselves to say goodnight and head to their separate homes, the realisation dawns on Frankie that she actually had a really pleasant day in Chloe's company.

It's not just because she desperately wants to force herself to make an effort to make things up to Chloe, be friendly with her so they can continue sleeping together without any grief or drama, but rather, surprisingly, because Chloe, as weird and kooky and oddly perceptive as she is, is actually rather likeable in a completely unexpected way.

It stirs something in Frankie's chest, a yearning to learn more about her, to truly get to know what lingers behind the happy, bubbly surface of Chloe Price. So, when Chloe thanks her for letting her work on the case with her and bids Frankie goodnight in the car-park with a little, unassuming smile, and starts towards her car, Frankie can't stop herself from reaching out and capturing her wrist, tugging her gently until Chloe stops and slowly, tentatively, turns back around to questioningly meet Frankie's eyes.

"Come home with me," Frankie whispers timidly, the words rushing from her in breathy exhale.

Chloe stares back at her wordlessly for a long moment, her eyes searching Frankie's for answers to questions Frankie doesn't know she's ready for, but she feels her heartbeat grow rapid in response as she swallows thickly and refuses to let herself look away no matter how intense and penetrating Chloe's gaze feels.

"I didn't think you wanted me- _us,_ to do this any more," Chloe responds quietly after a beat, her eyes glimmering unsurely as she shrugs and adds, "Thought you'd have found yourself another warm body to keep you company by now."

Frankie feels her stomach twist at Chloe's words, her mind flooding with images of the previous evening; their fight, the club, the alcohol, the music, the woman – and briefly flicks her eyes away from Chloe's knowing gaze as she feels the guilt settling heavily in her chest once more.

When she meets Chloe's gaze this time, Frankie opens and closes her mouth mutely, knowing that there's no right way to explain herself, that her head is still in such a tangle over this whole situation that she probably wouldn't know how to explain even if she tried, and so she simply shakes her head.

"Come home with me, Muppet," Frankie repeats softly, her request sounding more like a plea, and the heartfelt sincerity startling Chloe so much that Frankie hears the hitch in her breathing, the shallow exhale that follows, and their close proximity letting her feel the shiver that ripples down Chloe's spine. "I'll even order us in some friendly take-out," Frankie adds when she sees a slight hint of hesitation lingering in Chloe's dark eyes, "but just, come home with me. Please."

When she watches Chloe swallow thickly, nervously, in response with a subtle agreeing nod of her head, Frankie can't resist the powerful pull of her craving for a single second longer. She pulls Chloe into her, her heart stuttering joyfully when Chloe presses into her with no resistance, and moves them out from underneath the glow of the street-light as their lips easily meld together.

Their hands desperately find purchase at each other's waists, and Frankie can't stop herself from kissing Chloe deep and rough and shameless like she wants to forget the taste of the other woman from the previous night still lingering bitterly on her lips. Chloe slows her down after a few seconds, pulling back to just barely brush their lips together in the imitation of a real kiss, and when she feels Frankie quake beneath her hands at the tender caress, she closes the gap between them properly again, sweetening their kisses with soft strokes of her tongue, and making Frankie feel every part of it in a way that feels like Chloe is forcing her to remember _them_ instead.

"I'll come home with you," Chloe whispers against her lips when they finally break apart, panting and wanting, and shifting back just enough to find Frankie's eyes. "But no more of the hot and cold act, Frankie. If we can't find a way to be friends and do this, then I'm done for good. I mean it."

Frankie nods her head without a second thought, conceding easily to Chloe's demand and feels a surge of warmth rush through her at the look of surprise that flashes in Chloe's eyes, like she can't quite believe Frankie isn't going to make this difficult and resist with every fibre of her body, and when she leans in to kiss Chloe again, promisingly, it's so soft that the gentleness of it leaves them both trembling and breathless.

When Chloe's heavy-lidded eyes flutter open to find hers this time, dazed and a little awe-struck, Frankie knows there's no way now she doesn't believe how much Frankie means it.

It feels like a new beginning.


	9. Chapter 9

**Between the Shadow and the Soul: Chapter 9/?**

* * *

 **A/N:** I've had a crazy busy week, and I'm working all weekend once more, so I'm posting this before my Sunday schedule again.

While my intention was to get _I Was Married_ finished before posting more of this, I just haven't had the time to complete the final chapter, it's about ¾ of the way done, and the epilogue is only in bullet points at this point. So... This is the last pre-written chapter of _Between the Shadow and the Soul_ I have written. Chapter 10 is started and the rest are well planned out in my notebook (aiming for 13 chapters in total) but there may be a little wait for updates in the coming weeks as I'm about to pack up and move.

So, as always, thank you for your support on my fics, and know that your patience is much appreciated :)

* * *

Things change gradually after that night.

They start hanging out tentatively to begin with, getting food or coffee together during their breaks on shift, or going for a few drinks after work, sometimes just the two of them, or sometimes with the rest of the gang. They take part in trivia night despite the fact Dov or Holly always win, and Frankie even goes so far as to letting Chloe coax her into going along to Oliver's monthly karaoke night.

She doesn't sing, refuses to let herself be dragged up on stage, but she can't help but laugh openly at how awful all of her colleagues are at carrying a tune – except Gail, who, despite being super tipsy and mushy and hopelessly in love, starts serenading Holly like a bloody pro – and even finds herself clapping and whistling supportively when Chloe jumps up on stage and sings ' _Walking On Sunshine_ ' by Katrina & The Waves, complete with ridiculous 80s dance moves.

(In her intoxicated haze, Frankie can't help but wonder, worryingly, if Chloe is subtly singing parts of it directly to her, especially when she seems to stare at Frankie while she sings ' _Now, I don't want you back for the weekend, not back for a day, no, no, no, I said, baby, I just want you back, and I want you to stay_ ' and leaves Frankie's heart convulsing sharply, unsettlingly, in her chest. But then, just as passionately, Chloe hops off stage and starts singing in Nick's face, and Frankie feels relief crash over and considers that maybe Chloe's crazy is contagious because she sure seems to be losing her damn mind lately).

The most startling thing about the shift in their dynamic however, is just how easy the transition is overall. Whereas before it was foreplay banter and rough, meaningless sex and awkward interaction, now it's hanging out – which isn't actually as awful or exhausting as Frankie envisioned – foreplay banter, and fun, no-strings attached sex.

It's a much better balance, Frankie's discovering, them being friendly, because it's removed the layer of tension that was always there, surrounding them, stifling them slightly, before. There's no more awkward moments after their sweaty bodies collapse in a heap next to each other, they still don't cuddle, but instead of immediately rolling away from each other and falling asleep stiffly, Chloe will grin at her and say something ridiculous like 'thanks for rocking my world, chummy' or 'we're gonna be well sore tomorrow, champ' and it will make Frankie roll her eyes, but fondly, and playfully shove Chloe away from her as they settle down to sleep easily.

Chloe still makes them breakfast in the mornings after she's stayed over – moving around in Frankie's apartment so comfortably, so effortlessly, that it's almost like _she's_ the one that actually lives there – only now, Frankie rolls out of bed with her, and helps by working side by side with Chloe preparing their coffees.

She's mid-chew of a mouthful of waffles one morning when Chloe does what Chloe does best, and surprises her by asking a random question out of nowhere, presumably the first one that's popped into her head that morning as a suitable 'get to know each other' question, something that Frankie's growing more and more accustomed to.

"What do you like to get up to in your free time?" Chloe asks, pinning her with a curious look as she takes another sip of her coffee. When Frankie just stares back at her, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, Chloe rolls her eyes fondly and then with a smile, clarifies, "Like hobbies and interests? I can't imagine you just sitting about at home in the quiet after shift, so like, do you secretly skateboard or collect knives, or play guitar, oh, or maybe you're a secret knitter."

"I don't really have hobbies, especially _not_ knitting, I'm in my _thirties_ , not my seventies," Frankie replies snottily, scowling when Chloe stretches her legs out to breach the gap between their chairs and prods at Frankie's thigh with her toes until she flinches away. "Ouch, okay, fine. Tell me some of yours, Princess."

Chloe lights up in response, but doesn't draw her legs back, simply leaves her feet resting in Frankie's lap, completely comfortable now invading Frankie's personal space despite the scowl she always receives in return whenever she so brazenly crosses what Frankie would consider as a normal social boundary.

"I'm a sucker for old black and white films, the classics, you know? I love reading autobiographies because I feel like they're kinda like a window into a person's soul, at least a little glimpse," Chloe says merrily. "Oh, and I have the biggest passion for antiques; old ornaments or furniture that look like they have a good story behind them, some real character, none of this mass produced nonsense. I think it's just really fun to take something old and forgotten and make it relevant again, but at the same time still keep its original essence, kind of like bringing parts of history into the present."

"Not a big reader, get enough of that at work going over cases," Frankie replies absently, taking her final bite of her breakfast. "I only really like action films, so I can't say I've seen many of what you'd deem the classics. But I guess if I had to sum up my 'hobbies'," Frankie drawls, making air quotes as she says the word with a hint of disdain, "they would be drinking, dancing, and fucking."

She flashes Chloe a wink and a lecherous grin as the words leave her mouth, and she has to fight hard to contain her smile when she sees Chloe frown in response, her mouth twisting into an adorable, petulant pout.

"Those aren't- they're _not_ hobbies, _you ass_ ," Chloe fires back, glaring at her slightly.

Frankie can't help but smirk in response. "Sure they are, they're things I like to do when I'm not working. They're enjoyable and they keep me occupied and make me happy, so thus, they're hobbies."

"Why can't you just answer like a _person_ for once, instead of always being an insufferable brat," Chloe huffs grumpily, drawing her feet back and getting up to take their dirty plates to the sink, and dumping them down noisily

"Don't be so dramatic, Muppet, I'm just playing," Frankie sighs heavily, rolling her eyes and getting up to stand at Chloe's side. If there's one thing she's slowly learning about Chloe Price, it's that she's a rather sensitive soul about some of the most strangest – most smallest – things. It's becoming quite the learning curve to know when to tease and when to back off, and so, Frankie waits patiently, keeping her eyes trained on Chloe as she runs the hot water and begins rinsing their plates, and remains silent until Chloe relents to her staring after a few, stubborn, quiet-filled moments, before saying, "Shopping."

"Shopping?" Chloe echoes, her eyebrows arching in surprise as she pauses mid-rinse of a mug.

"Yes, shopping," Frankie nods seriously, reminding herself that it's all about taking baby steps, and that it doesn't hurt her to share just a little of herself, especially something as trivial as what her hobbies are. "Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I'm not into dressing nice. I like keeping up to date with what's in fashion. I don't want to end up looking like Holly, all nerdy cardigans and ugly jackets, do I? So, I guess I could call shopping a hobby."

Chloe slaps her arm for her back-handed Holly-comment and then smiles brightly. "I love shopping too; shoes, bags, dresses, underwear, all the super cute accessories there are now to enhance an outfit," she replies cheerfully. "There's never a bad time for a little retail therapy."

It surprises Frankie a little then, how Chloe doesn't suggest that they go together sometime, that instead, she lets their mutual love for shopping hang between them pleasantly without turning it into something overwhelming, and simply turns to finish the last of their dirty dishes, completely content with the small snippet of herself that Frankie has given her.

In ways she didn't expect, it feels remarkably easy – easier than Frankie _ever_ anticipated being friendly with Chloe would be – and in a strange, unexpected way, Chloe's lack of judgement and her quiet acceptance and satisfaction with her answer leaves Frankie wanting to willingly offer more.

"We could go sometime," Frankie finds herself offering after a few minutes of silence has passed between them, Chloe having passed her the dish-towel to dry up as she continues to wash, and them working together in perfect rhythm. "Shopping, I mean," Frankie expands awkwardly when Chloe just blinks back at her quietly for a few seconds.

"I'd really like that," Chloe replies with a soft smile that makes Frankie's stomach flutter. "It's always more enjoyable to shop along with someone."

Frankie clears her throat and tries to ignore the way she can feel her cheeks growing flushed under Chloe's appreciative gaze. "Okay, cool... well I was gonna go tomorrow anyway, I need some new sunglasses; Peck sat on mine with her fat ass and broke them. So, I guess, if you wanted, and you're not on shift, you could tag along?"

"Nope, I'm off tomorrow. It'll be fun hobby-ing together, I promise," Chloe grins excitedly back at her. "Do you want to go together or would you rather we do the more friend-type thing and arrange a time and meet somewhere?"

"Might as well go together since you'll probably stay over tonight after we have drinks with Gail and Holly at The Penny," Frankie says distractedly, her focus momentarily shifted to the bubbles clinging annoyingly to the cup she's drying. "We can get up, have breakfast like normal and then head into the city to shop."

When she finally gets rid of them and looks back up a second later, Chloe's eyes are shimmering brightly, a small smirk playing on her lips as she stares at Frankie with her eyebrow arched teasingly, and Frankie feels herself blushing at once, suddenly realising what she's said and _how_ exactly it sounds.

Chloe catches her noticing her slip-up and can't help but bump elbows their elbows playfully and cheekily reply, "It's a date then."

"Ugh, god you're annoying," Frankie huffs back, trying to be grumpy but failing as Chloe breaks into a laugh and moves to wrap her arm around Frankie's, clinging to her in a way she knows Frankie will find irritating. "Forget this whole friend thing, Price, you've ruined it, and you're uninvited from shopping with me and my awesome taste."

Chloe just laughs harder at her and doesn't relent on her grasp on Frankie's arm until Frankie flicks water at her, and then breaks into a laugh herself at Chloe's shocked squeal, and darts quickly away before Chloe can retaliate.

They spend the rest of the morning bickering like always, and even though it makes Frankie roll her eyes when Chloe parts from her in the locker room, calling obnoxiously – and rather smugly – over her shoulder, "it's a date, Detective" when Frankie says she'll see her for lunch, she tries not to think about the way her heart seems to swell happily in her chest at the notion and why she can't seem to stop smiling whenever she catches a glimpse of the wacky officer throughout the day.

* * *

Having Chloe come along shopping with her, does in fact turn out to be surprisingly fun.

She ends up liking most of the same stores that Frankie does, and she even, without teasing or pushing too far, helps Frankie pick out some new button-down shirts for work and a new pair of sunglasses to replace her old ones.

They simply browse the stores together, chatting about work and their friends and the clothes they see, and Frankie wonders, as she looks around at other women shopping together, if this is what it's like to do a normal friendly activity. There's no attempt at flirting or sexy taunts, and there's no efforts from Chloe to hold her hand or link arms or anything else Frankie would consider couple-y and date-like, it's simply just time spent together interacting on a non-physical level.

It's all rather surprisingly nice – albeit a little unusual for her – and by the time they're getting ready to call it quits and stop for the day, their arms both full of bags, Frankie thinks this could definitely become something they do together on a frequent basis that doesn't involve them being naked.

(Although, Frankie has to admit, catching glimpses of Chloe's soft, supple skin in the dressing-rooms as she's removed her clothes to try new pieces on has been an added bonus, even when Chloe has caught her looking and made her blush hotly in embarrassment for acting like a hormone-driven lecherous teenager, Chloe has simply smiled in amusement and let her look).

"Hey, can we just have a quick look around here before we head back to the car," Chloe asks as she comes to a stop in front of a store window, her eyes glued to the mannequins presenting an array of gorgeous dresses.

Frankie sighs tiredly. "If we have to," she replies, "although I don't see what you'd need another dress for, you've already bought two today, Price."

Chloe just smiles back at her and shrugs. "Dresses are a girls best friend."

" _Diamonds_ ," Frankie corrects as she follows into the store behind her. "Diamonds are a girls best friend, Muppet, not dresses. Dresses are just-"

"Something _you_ like to take off women?" Chloe teases, cutting her off with a flirty wink before turning to the rack and searching for her size. "I'm going to try this on, be right back."

Frankie watches her go wordlessly, knowing there's no point in arguing now Chloe's on a mission, and wanders aimlessly around the store for a few minutes, wanting nothing more than to just go home now and put her feet up for awhile, completely and utterly shopped out.

Her exhaustion fades quickly however, when Chloe steps out of the dressing-room wearing the dress she's opted to try on; the deep red material clinging tantalizingly to the curves of her body and contrasting stunningly with the paleness of her skin, and the low v-neckline running down along her chest, just low enough that Frankie can see a hint of the soft swells of her breasts peaking from beneath its edges.

Frankie feels her breath lodge in her throat as her gaze trails down across the smooth slope of Chloe's neck, down the exposed and utterly hypnotising skin of her chest and breasts, to take in the suppleness of her mostly bared thighs and the sleekness of her calves, and the adorable contrast of her bare, little feet.

She feels her body rage heatedly with overwhelming desire as she licks at her lips and allows her gaze to wander back up to meet Chloe's own, her heart thundering in her chest as she takes in the hungry darkness of Chloe's eyes, and the coy but tormentingly sexy way Chloe is biting at her bottom lip as she stares back at her knowingly.

And just like that Frankie feels the ease of their friendliness being replaced with the electric spark of want, the air around them growing thick and consuming as their temptation draws them together like opposite pole magnets unable to resist the universe's natural laws of attraction.

Frankie hears herself swallow audibly as her feet carry her towards Chloe, stopping only she's close enough to reach out and run her fingertip slowly down between the valley of Chloe's breasts.

Chloe's breath hitches at her caress, and Frankie feels herself leaning in to capture Chloe's lips with her own before she can stop herself. Chloe moans at the force of her kiss, tasting Frankie's lust with her tongue, her hands reaching up to twist in Frankie's hair and hold her close as Frankie's hands slip beneath the hem of the dress and palm at the soft globes of Chloe's ass, grinding their bodies together desperately as she urges a leg between Chloe's own.

They're so lost in each other, their mouths slanting together hungrily, over and over again, that they don't stop until a loud, angry voice booms out next to them and snaps them out of their haze.

"You can't do that in here!" the shop assistant snaps furiously. "This is a shop, _not_ a gay-bar! So either take the dress off – _respectfully_ – and buy it, or get the hell out and take your lesbian mating ritual into the privacy of your own home."

Chloe stares back at her, blinking in surprise and breathing heavily, her fingers going up to touch her kiss bruised lips as a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and all Frankie can do is huff out an amused breath in response and reach into her pocket, passing the shop assistant her credit-card without even bothering to look at her.

"Looks good on you," Frankie compliments Chloe as the shop assistant huffs away angrily to charge them (probably double, she thinks absently, for the disturbance they've caused), and lets her eyes roam appreciatively over Chloe's body once more, this time taking in her smudged lip-stick, the flush of her skin and the dishevelled state of the dress.

Chloe flushes a deeper shade of crimson in response, her cheeks almost matching the colour of the dress, but nonetheless, confidently husks, "I look even better out of it."

Frankie feels wetness pool between her thighs at Chloe's sultry tease and swallowing thickly, confesses, "I think I quite like hobby-ing with you, Muppet."

"Told you it would be fun," Chloe fires back sexily as she reaches behind herself to unzip the dress and slowly starts backing into the dressing-room, her heated gaze never leaving Frankie's own, "and now that we've done the shopping part, how about we go try out the rest of your interests together?"

Frankie's never heard a better plan before in her life, and the $300 the dress ends up costing her seems totally worth it when they end up a club later that night, drinking and dancing and having a good time, and teasing each other until neither of them can handle the overwhelming desire brimming between them for a second longer.

Being friends with Chloe seems even more worth it later that evening, when they head back to Frankie's apartment, so barely able to contain their want for one another, that Frankie ends up pressing Chloe to the wall just inside the door of her apartment, her hands slipping behind Chloe's back to peel the dress from her body as her lips ravish every inch of skin she exposes along the way with hot, open-mouthed kisses that leave Chloe panting wantonly and crying out in pleasure.

* * *

The next time they get together for some friendly hanging-out, turns out to be far less wild than the last time.

Chloe turns up unannounced at her apartment early one Friday evening, after their shifts have differed from each other for a few days, with a pizza and a bottle of vodka, and a bright, cheeky smile that makes Frankie's stomach flutter in delighted anticipation.

She's gotten quite used to their balance now in these past few weeks, always a couple of hours of hanging out, chit-chatting, normally accompanied with a few drinks before tearing each other's clothes off and heading to bed for another couple of hours of naked fun.

This time however, once the pizza is long gone and they've traded stories from their few days apart, instead of leaning in to kiss Frankie hungrily, Chloe simply leans over and hands her a deck of cards.

"You planning on doing some kind of sexy magician strip-tease?" Frankie asks, turning the cards over in her hands and glancing up at Chloe curiously.

Chloe shakes her head in response. "Nope," she says, intentionally popping the 'p' and getting up to fetch the vodka and the shot glasses. "We've done a bunch of your hobbies recently, which has been great fun, but now it's time you return the favour and try some of mine."

Frankie's eyebrows knit together in confusion as she opens the pack of cards and shuffles through them. "These aren't antique or film related, Price," she comments as she sets the deck down. "Unless we're going to get crafty and soak them in coffee to give them that old, musty, rustic parchment look like some third-grader art project?"

Chloe rolls her eyes at her and unscrews the lid from the vodka bottle, carefully pouring them both three shots before setting the bottle back down again. "Uncle Frank taught me to play cards growing up, so that's what we're gonna do tonight, okay? Dov would never play with me, and Chris never gets the rules, and Gail's always more concerned with the shots, so..."

"What makes you think I'm going to be any better? Peck had the right idea about going straight for the alcohol, playing cards is about as exciting as doing a puzzle," Frankie replies, reaching over to grab one of her shots only to have her hand slapped away.

Chloe ignores her scowl and slaps her hand away again when Frankie makes a second, stubborn attempt for the shots, and simply leans forward to grab the cards. "How about if I make it worth your while?" Chloe questions, shuffling the deck so quickly and efficiently that she looks like she could be a casino game dealer.

The movement of the cards sliding masterly between Chloe's dexterous fingers peeks Frankie's interest enough that she decides that playing a couple of rounds of whatever game Chloe has in mind can't possibly be that painful, and with the way Chloe is promising to make it worth her while with a ridiculously confident smirk curling at her lips and mischievous twinkle in her eyes, Frankie can't possibly resist seeing _what_ exactly she has in mind.

"Alright, I'm game," Frankie relents holding Chloe's gaze daringly, "but how exactly do you intend to make this interesting, Price? Because I warn you, they'll be punishment if it's not."

Chloe just smirks sexily back at her and leans over to set each of Frankie's three shots in front of her, before explaining, "I thought I'd try and teach you how to play _Big Two_ – some people call it _Deuces_. Do you know how to play?" Frankie shakes her head in response, not being one to have really played cards before, except for a weekend in Vegas with some buddies once which ended in her gambling a lot at the casino (and losing) and sleeping with a woman who kept beating the dealer at blackjack in the master suite of the casino hotel to ease her pain. "It can take awhile to get but once you do it's a fun game and-"

"Still not hearing how you're going to make this worth my while, Muppet," Frankie cuts in, her eyebrow arched challengingly.

"You're so impatient, I was getting there," Chloe fires back with a fond grin, dealing them both a hand of cards. "I'll teach you the rules and we'll play a couple of practice rounds, and then it's game on. The loser of each round loses a piece of clothing and has to take a shot, while the winner gets to ask the loser a question that they _must_ answer truthfully, no forfeits."

Frankie picks up the cards that have been dealt to her and flicks through them quickly, checking to see what she's got, and then realising that she doesn't know what the hell they're going to play, rolls her eyes at herself, and says, "Okay, Princess, let's do this."

The first hour passes without the removal of any clothes, Chloe patiently trying to teach Frankie the rules to _Big Two_ while Frankie grows increasingly frustrated at how complicated and confusing the damn game is. Chloe ends up laughing mercifully at her after their fifth attempt and suggesting they change games to something easier that Frankie already knows how to play, and so they end up, much to Chloe's amusement, playing _Crazy Eights_ , because it's the only game Frankie can really remember how to play from her childhood.

In the following hour, the game of cards becomes far more interesting, much to Frankie's relief, the pace picks up and their alcohol consumption increases, while their clothing level decreases, and they both merrily trade answers to questions asked.

Thanks to Chloe's game, Frankie learns a few trivial things about her that she didn't know before; she discovers that Chloe is a Libra, that her birthday is October 23rd, that her first concert was NSYNC – which she judges and laughs at – that she had a brief marriage to a controlling guy named Wes, that she wants to go to Paris, that she lost her virginity at fifteen to a geeky boy who played cello in her school band – also something she teases Chloe for – that she has an older brother – Frankie's not sure if it's the vodka messing with her perception or not, but she thinks she picks up a hint of sadness in Chloe's eyes when the question turns towards her family – and that her favourite all time movie, after _The Breakfast Club_ (which she apparently watches on her birthday _every_ year) is _Casablanca._

"Doesn't that film have a bittersweet ending with the couple not getting together?" Frankie questions when Chloe claims it to be her favourite romantic movie of all time, the burn of the vodka still stinging the back of her throat.

"Yeah," Chloe answers with a small, somewhat dreamy smile, "but you know how much they love each other anyway, it's portrayed so beautifully... and I mean, that's what it's all about really, right? To experience a great love like that in your life at least once."

"You're disgustingly sappy," Frankie teases tipsily, and then, sobering slightly, not wanting them to get off course and stumble back into too deep a territory, reminding herself to keep things light and easy, asks, "What's your favourite colour? And don't say rainbow because I genuinely will vomit on you."

Chloe laughs and shoves at her shoulder in response. "Don't be gross," she chides lightly, reaching for the bottle and with rather shaky, intoxicated aim, pours them another round of shots. "My favourite colour is _not_ rainbow, thank you very much. It's coral," she answers easily.

Frankie blinks back at her for a few seconds, letting the information soak in and then chuckles. "Coral?" she breathes out in amused exasperation. "Your favourite colour is fucking coral? You can't be serious."

"Yeah, I am," Chloe nods surely, not understanding why it's so funny. "What's wrong with that? Coral's a lovely colour."

"Why do you always have to make things so complicated," Frankie retorts, and then counting the colours off on her fingers says, "Why can't you just pick a normal colour, like red or blue or yellow?"

Chloe's brow furrows in return. "Are you just naming the primary colours?" Frankie shrugs and takes another shot, not caring to wait to play another hand. "Whatever, coral is my favourite because I like coral best, so there," she declares petulantly, sticking out her tongue at Frankie and breaking into a grin when Frankie reaches over to tickle her side playfully in retaliation. The pestering caress makes Chloe flinch away from her with a chuckle. "What's yours then, Detective Serious-Pants, let me guess, something bleak and boring."

"Black," Frankie answers with a shrug.

Chloe laughs at that. "Now there's a surprise," she says with a teasing smirk. "As wild and exciting as predicted."

"Fuck you, Princess," Frankie laughs in response. "I'll have you know that black goes with everything, unlike fucking coral."

" _All_ girls like pink colours," Chloe protests even as she laughs along with her, and then as they settle down again, she reaches to down her last shot as Frankie shuffles the cards and readies herself to play another round.

Frankie feels herself growing smug as they play, having switched from _Crazy Eights_ to _Gin Rummy_ for the last couple of games, and stares down at her mostly perfect hand. She only needs to swap a couple out and she's got a flush, it's perfect, Chloe's only wearing her bra and underwear now, so it finally feels like it shouldn't be too much hard work to get through a couple more hands and get her down to her naked glory, exactly how Frankie's wanted her all evening.

Her strategy is all going perfectly to plan – she just needs the queen of hearts to complete her set – until Chloe throws her hand down, not with a winning hand, but with _her_ damn card, the queen of hearts staring up at Frankie just as smugly as Chloe looks as she pushes up to her feet.

"Hey, Muppet, where the hell are you going, I was _winning_ here," Frankie demands competitively, following Chloe with her eyes as she makes a start out of the room.

Chloe pauses in her exit, turning to face her with seductive smirk that makes Frankie's heart stutter in her chest. "No you weren't, but I think we've been friendly enough for tonight, don't you?" she purrs provocatively, reaching behind her back to un-hook her bra and letting it fall easily to the ground as she holds Frankie's gaze invitingly. "Now it's time for us _not_ to talk so much, Frankie."

Frankie feels a flaming desire ripple through her, engulfing every inch of her body with a desperate, inferno of want, and with a final, quick glance at the queen of hearts, Frankie throws her own cards down and rushes eagerly towards Chloe, her wobbly legs moving far quicker than they probably should.

She scoops Chloe up somewhat clumsily, nowhere near as smooth as she'd like to be in her drunken state, her body not quite predicting the correct balance as she grasps and lifts Chloe up into her from under her thighs, and as they stumble into the bedroom, Chloe's legs wrapping tightly around her waist and her arms grasping at Frankie's neck as she releases a surprised squeal at their unsteadiness, she nonetheless leans in to kiss Frankie hungrily, albeit a little sloppy, in between rounds of giggling.

And as they fall together, rather ungraciously onto the bed, their laughter ringing out into the room for a few moments before being replaced with laboured breathing and deep, gasping moans as their bodies come together and move seamlessly as one, Frankie can't help but think that losing her stoic attitude around Chloe Price hasn't been anywhere near as terrifying as she thought it would be, in fact, it's turning out to be rather rewarding in all the best ways imaginable.


End file.
